

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 


Shelf, Y 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, 






































f 































Mrs. Mary J. Holmes’ Novels 

Over a MILLIO N Sold. 

THE NEW BOOK 

Dr. Hathern s Daughters 

JUSX OUT. 

As a writer of domestic stories which are extremely interesting 
without being extravagant, Mrs. Mary J. Holmes is unrivalled. 
Her characters are true to life, many of them are quaint, 
and all are so admirably delineated that their conduct 
and peculiarities make an enduring impression 
upon the reader’s memory.” 


The following is a list of Mary J. Holmes’ Novels : 


TEMPEST AND SUN= 
SHINE. 

ENGLISH ORPHANS. 
HOHESTEAD ON THE 
HILLSIDE. 

’LENA RIVERS. 
MEADOW BROOK. 
DORA DEANE. 

COUSIN MAUDE. 
HARIAN GREY. 

EDITH LYLE. 


DAISY THORNTON. 
CHATEAU D’OR. 
QUEENIE HETHER 
TON. 

DARKNESS AND 
DAYLIGHT. 

HUGH WORTHING- 
TON. 

CAMERON PRIDE. 
ROSE MATHER. 
GRETCHEN. 


ETHELYN’S MIS= 
TAKE. 
niLLBANK. 

EDNA BROWNING. 
WEST LAWN. 
niLDRED. 

FORREST HOUSE. 
riADELINE. 
CHRISTMAS STORIES. 
BESSIE’S FORTUNE. 
MARGUERITE. 


Dr. HATHERN’S DAUGHTERS. (New.) 


All handsomely printed and bound in cloth, sold everywhere, 
and sent by mail, postage free, on receipt of price ($1.50), by 


G. W. DILLINGHAM, Publisher, 

33 WEST 23rd STREET, NEW YORK. 


DILLINGHAM’S AMERICAN AUTHORS LIBRARY, No. 6. 

" ^ SEPTEMBER, 1896. ISSUED MONTHLY. $S PER YEAR. 

ENTERED AT THE NEW YORK POST OPPlOE AS SECOND-CLASS MATTER. 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE 

31 JiToofl. 


BY^ 

JOHN R. McMAHON. 


G. 


JV. 




NEW YORK: 

Copyright, 1895, by 

Dilluigham^ Publisher^ 


Successor to G. W. Carleton & Car 

MDCCCXCV. 

[A// Rights Reserved^] 




CONTENTS. 


Page 

Prologue — Part I. — Mutiny . • , . . 7 

Part II. — Marooned , . .15 

Chapter 

1 . The Suspect 23 

II. Asiatic Cholera 30 

III. Mr. George Barrett, Banker . . *35 

IV. The Anonymous Letter . . , .37 

V. Sudden Death 45 

VI. A Morgue Substitution . . . .54 

VII. Murder !” ...... 64 

VIII. The Sartoris Household . . . .73 

IX. Entry in a Diary 81 

X. Death of Sergeant Phillips . . *91 

XL Dr. Jollier and Leland .... loi 

XII. Mallei . . ■ 108 

XIII. Liverpool Report 114 

XIV. The Atlantic Cable 119 

XV. Diphtheria ...... 130 

XVI. Hydrophobia 133 

XVII. Six Men 139 

XVHI, Detective Reaper . . . . . 143 

[vj 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter Page 

XIX. Episode of the Second Avenue House 155 


XX. What Befell . 

XXL A Truthful Cablegram 
XXII. A Silk Hat . 

XXIII. Leland and the Detective 

XXIV. Bella’s Report . 

XXV. A Terrible Threat 

XXVI. I’ve Found Captain Mandeville 
XXVII. The Detective’s Story . 

XXVIII. The Arrest . 

XXIX. Asseverations of Innocence 

XXX. The Informer 

XXXI. Suicide .... 

XXXII. Another View . 

XXXIII. The Public Side . 

XXXIV. Conclusion . 

Epilogue 


167 

179 

183 

199 

204 

211 

223 

229 

238 

245 

254 

266 

272 

277 

279 

282 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


PROLOGUE. 

PART I. 

MUTINY. 

The chance visit of a sailor into the hold of the 
Bride of Plymouth'’ was, if not the cause, the ante- 
cedent (as a logician would say) of all that followed. 
In the semi-gloom he stumbled against one of fifty 
small oaken kegs which were supposed to contain 
nails consigned to the then only hardware dealer in 
Melbourne, Australia. It rolled over on its side and 
the contents emitted such a jingling sound, so unlike 
that of cold wrought iron, that the sailor's lively 
curiosity was instantly aroused. Without thinking 
of the punishment he was in danger of receiving for 
meddling with the cargo, he set to work with a mar-. 

[7l 


8 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


linspike and in the space of a half hour had suc- 
ceeded in prying off the hoops that bound one end 
of the keg. Eagerly lifting the head of the supposed 
nail repository, he saw before him rows of gold sov- 
ereigns neatly laid in circles, which radiated like the 
miniature waves occasioned by dropping a stone in 
a pool ; a single coin in the center representing the 
stone. So completely astonished was the man that 
he sat dazed for a moment ; then mechanically re- 
moved the top layer of sovereigns ; several thick- 
nesses of flannel were beneath ; more sovereigns and 
more flannel, and so on to the very bottom. There 
they were, piled up in a little heap before him, shin- 
ing and gleaming and reflecting a rich yellowish 
hue, as bright and clean as if they had been stamped 
the day before. 

The sailor had never seen a tenth of that wealth 
before and his scanty pay when ashore after a voy- 
age went after the manner of his happy-go-lucky 
kind. For a long time he remained in the musty 
hold alternately dancing in delirious joy and gazing 
stupidly at the precious heap of coins. Then he 
sobered down somewhat and reflected. He counted 
the sovereigns — there were five hundred of them — 
replaced them carefully in the keg just as he had 
found them, fastened on the head, and shoved the 
keg into the deepest and darkest corner. When he 
cautiously made his reappearance on deck the mate 
swore at him for skulking and had his allowance of 
grog cut off for a week, with the promise the next 
offense would give him a taste of the cat. 

Eight days the sailor kept his knowledge to him- 


MUTINY. 


9 


self, but on the ninth, being no longer able to con- 
tain himself, he told one of his mates after exacting 
several terrible oaths of secresy. Within two weeks 
every sailor in the fo’c’sle was acquainted with the 
secret and ten days after that whispers of it had 
reached the cook, the mate, and even the cabin boy. 
Plainly the Bride of Plymouth was carrying a 
large amount of Her Majesty's coin to the colonies. 
If one keg contained gold sovereigns, there must be 
more of the same order. The consignors probably 
thought there was less risk in sending it that way 
in an innocent sailing vessel, under the guise of 
wrought iron nails which pirates themselves would 
not trouble to disturb, than in employing a heavily 
armed and manned ship which would proclaim to all 
malefactors of the sea the cargo she carried and 
would but require a large attacking force. 

The Bride of Plymouth " was not an English 
ship, although the Union Jack floated at her mast- 
head. She had been built at the American port a 
part of whose name she bore, and all her men, with 
the exception of the young captain, were Americans. 
Siie had been the only available vessel for the con- 
signors of the gold, and as her crew expressed a wil- 
lingness to sign for a ten months' voyage to Mel- 
bourne and back, a trusted Englishman was placed 
in charge and she sailed from the mouth of the Mer- 
sey a fortnight after she had entered it. So long as 
no one knew of the real character of the cargo, the 
money was as safe, barring the elements, as if it lay 
in the vaults of the Bank at home. 

Honesty had been with the members of the crew a 


10 


CAPTAIN MANDKVILLE. 


simple matter of course. One sailor would no more 
think of appropriating another’s tobacco plug or 
other like possession than of robbing himself; but 
on the other hand, none of them had ever come in 
actual contact with such possibilities of dishonesty 
before. Between a plug of tobacco and thousands 
of pounds stowed in the hold in oaken kegs was a 
difference and a gulf which was irreconcilable. 
The infection of dazzled cupidity seized every man 
of the crew and the officers and the sailors before the 
mast felt the comraderie of piratical rovers. To 
make sure of their footing, a small force of sailors 
was secretly dispatched one night to broach all the 
kegs and discover the exact amount of money aboard 
the Bride of Plymouth.” Twenty-five thousand 
pounds was the report — enough to make every man 
of the crew independent, yes, rich ! 

But the captain ? Would he join his foreign crew 
in a division of the spoils ? A meeting was held 
in the fo’c’sle and the first mate, a rather ugly-fea- 
tured, long-limbed man, spoke : 

Mates, we’ve got only the matter of a week to do 
our work in and the nearer we get to Melbourne the 
less chance we’ll have. If the cap’n wants to join us, 
why, I, Tobias Jenkins, say let him. If as he’s not 
with us, we’ll give him a snug berth somewheres, 
and I’ll navigate the ‘Bride’ to one of the islands 
about these seas. Being painted and with a new 
name we’ll be in shape to sail for Ameriky, where 
each man gets his share and goes home.” 

Jenkins squirted a stream of tobacco juice under a 
bunk as he concluded, and looked inquiringly into 


JkOTTIKY. 


11 


the faces of his companions to see the effect of his 
words. A plain seaman rose awkwardly from the 
pile of yarn on which he had been sitting and said ; 

Slushin’ the mainmast always came easier to me 
than talkin’, as you all know well, and I ain’t a nawi- 
gator like the mate here, but if he ain’t on the right 
tack I’ll swallow my salt horse ’thout chewing when 
eight bells is struck !” 

What’s to be done to the cap’n if he ain’t agree- 
able ?” demanded the boatswain, a sallow com- 
plexioned man with the shrewd, twinkling eyes of a 
Yankee. 

‘‘ That’ll be decided by vote,” responded the mate, 
adding, with a grim smile, ^^the same way they settle 
things in the States.” He continued: Larry 

Powers, Jim Hicks, Joe Burns and myselfll see his 
nobs now and give him our ideas, eh, boys ?” 

There was no dissenting voice, and the mate, fol- 
lowed by Powers the bo’s’n, Hicks the carpenter and 
Burns, a grizzly, black-bearded salt, marched to the 
captain’s cabin. 

The commander of the Bride of Plymouth ” was as 
totally unlike the skipper of the common run of sea 
tales as could be imagined. He could not have been 
more than thirty, his face was vigorous and perhaps 
a trifle thoughtful, his hair was rather dark, and he 
wore a sharp pointed beard after the French fashion. 
Indeed, he resembled the Englishman neither in ap- 
pearance or in speech. He was not a hard master 
and the men under him knew it, and it was most 
likely for this reason the delegation walked to his 
cabin somewhat shamefacedly. 


12 


c : a in mandeville. 

The lieavy knock of the mate was recognized by 
Captain Mandeville, and, without lifting his head 
from the chart lie was studying on the table, he cried 
out to him to enter. The four filed in slowly, and 
the shuffling feet drew the captain’s attention and 
caused him to glance up. 

“Well, well!” he exclaimed, half surprised and 
annoyed. “ What might this mean ? Isn’t your'beef 
fresh, or is the biscuit too hard for your teeth ? And 
what do you mean, Jenkins, by leading these men 
here ?’* 

There was an awkward pause for a moment. 

“Come, come!” said the captain, impatiently, 
“don’t stand there all day. If you’ve got any com- 
plaint to make, make it and be done.” 

Jenkins, who had been appointed to the position 
of spokesman, recovered his lost wits and boldly 
said : 

“ No, Captain Mandeville, it ain’t the beef nor the 
biscuit, and as for my cornin’ with the men it’s a 
matter consarns me as much as them. To put the 
thing in a nutsliell, as we say down Boston way, the 
crew knows there’s a heap of money aboard and the 
trick is to sail the ‘ Bride of Plymouth ’ to Ameriky 
an’ divide it, you coming in for your regular share. 
That’s all, sir.” 

In an instant this blunt announcement revealed 
everything to the captain — here was the explanation 
for the furitive whisperings and strange actions of his 
crew for the last few days. He was stunned and 
speechless. So the sailors had discovered the char- 
acter of the “Bride’s ” cargo, and were deliberately 


MUTIKY. 


13 


proposing to steal the gold and make way with the 
ship ! His own chief officer was in the conspiracy, 
too ! Then the color came back to his cheeks and 
in a voice of iron harshness he said : 

‘‘What you have just spoken is mutiny, d'ye hear, 
mutiny, and every man jack here will swing from a 
rope's end before the month is up unless he goes 
back to his post. D’ye understand that ?” 

The men seemed almost cowed by the words and 
bearing of the captain and he was quick to take ad- 
vantage of his temporary success. Snatching a 
pistol from an open drawer before him, he sprang 
to his feet and shouted with energy : 

“ Back to your places, every one of you I The 
first man that makes a wrong step, I’ll shoot like a 
dog ! And as for you, Tobias Jenkins, may God 
lielp you when we get into port !” 

With the others the threats of the bold captain 
operated as a douche of cold water and they forgot 
the treasure and saw themselves only in the light of 
unjustifiable mutineers. But upon Jenkins the 
effect was different. A sudden fierce rage came over 
him. With a quick blow he knocked the pistol from 
the hand of Captain Mandeville, who was totally 
unprepared for this decisive assault. The next in- 
stant he leaped upon the captain and twined his long 
arms about his waist. The bo’s’ii was the first of 
the amazed delegation to come to tlie mate’s aid. 
There was something of a struggle, for the captain 
was athletic ; but the odds of four to one proved too 
much and he was soon lying on the cabin floor with 
his. arms and legs pinioned by ropes. 


14 


CAPTAIN MANDEYILLE. 


“ That’s a pretty job, lads," gasped Jenkins, 
breathing hard from his exertions and pointing to 
the prostrate figure. 

“That’s so!" ejaculated the carpenter, with the 
returned courage of an unexpected victor. “And 
while the cap'n is a-resting we might be taking some 
of his grog." 

The frightened cabin boy, who had witnessed the 
overcoming of his master from a crack outside, was 
summoned by the mate and still trembling with ex- 
citement took a key from its hiding-place and un- 
locked the chest in which Captain Mandeville kept 
his supply of spirits and cigars. A large bottle of 
cognac and a box of manillas were laid on the table. 
Each man took a small tumblerful of liquor, smacked 
his lips and drank it off. Then with a cigar in 
each mouth the question of how to dispose of the 
captain was taken up. 

Burns, the tangle bearded salt, spoke up : 

“ It ain’t much in my way to make suggestions, 
but I say, give the cap’n his choice atween jinin’ us 
and walkin’ the plank.’’ 

“As fer me," said Hicks, “ I favor the plank fust 
and the ch’ice after." 

Jenkins turned inquiringly to the bo’s’n. 

“The carp’nter’s c’rrect, accordin’ to my notion,’’ 
said he. “An’ what’s more, dead men don’t bother 
the livin’." 

“You’re all wrong, mates," said Jenkins. “It 
ain’t safe after what’s happened to have the cap’n 
with us and if dead men don’t talk, the livin' do for 
’em sometimes. What — " 


Marootted. 


15 


The cry of “ Land ho V* from the sailor at the 
wheel brought an end to the discussion for a time 
and the four men left the cabin hurriedly and went 
on deck. 


PART II. 

MAROONED. 

The land that had been descried appeared hardly 
two points of the compass to the port side of the ship, 
perhaps fifteen miles away, and at the rate the Bride 
of Plymouth ** was traveling under the influence of a, 
steady breeze it was a safe wager that she would be 
abreast in an hour and a quarter. The mate, Jenkins, 
who had already taken virtual command, sent one of 
the sailors to fetch the captain's telescope, and, 
mounting the bridge, gazed long and earnestly at the 
fast approaching shore. Finally he withdrew the 
telescope from his eyes with a satisfied air and turned 
to the crew, which had assembled about him. 

It's all right, mates," he said. What you see 
yonder is neither Melbourne nor London. It looks 
to me like one of these islands that're so thick around 
this part of creation and most like there’s nary soul 
on it. Howsoever, we can show Yankee heels if it 
happened as there was cannibals or such about and 
that's all to be afeared of." 

In a short time the land had been raised on the 
horizon sufficiently so that its form could be plainly 


16 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


distinguislied by the unaided eye. It was something 
like a horseshoe in sliape, not mountainous, and cov^ 
ered with trees whose foliage had the rich tropical 
greenness. Soon through a break in the trees a thin 
line of sparkling, silvery water could be seen, un- 
doubtedly water of the same sea the “ Bride of Ply- 
mouth was traversing. It was, then, nothing more 
than a terrestrial oasis in the great aqueous desert ; 
a mere strip of land thrown up in the midst of the 
watery solitudes, a coral island a few acres in extent. 

The ship was put about and when within three or 
four miles of the island soundings were begun to be 
taken, not a needless precaution, for the depths about 
the coral regions are most uncertain. One hundred 
fathoms, seventy-five fathoms, fifty fathoms, thirty 
fathoms — the anchor was quickly dropped, the sails 
were furled, and the ‘‘ Bride of Plymouth ’’ gracefully 
and incessantly bowed and curtesied with the gentle 
ground swell. 

As this seemed a favorable opportunity, Jenkins 
summoned the entire crew aft and delivered himself 
thus : 

Now, mates, the carp’nter and the gentlemen as 
assisted me have told you weh*e without a cap'n, the 
old one bein' confined to his cabin and not bein' usa- 
ble. We made our plans before and I offered to 
navigate the Bride.” But we’re all equals and if you 
want another to walk the bridge until the stuff in the 
hold is divided, why go ahead and name the man.” 

^‘Jenkins fer me,” declared the bo’s’n and another 
shouted, Hooray fer Cap’n Jenkins !” No more 


MAROONED. 


17 


expressions of opinion being forthcoming the matter 
of the captaincy was settled. 

^‘The next thing to be done,” said the new com- 
mander, is to part with our friend, Mister Mande- 
ville. Accordin’ to my notion tliis island we’re off 
now’d be a tight little place to leave him. There 
ain’t another craft due along here for the matter of 
six months and Mister Mandeville wouldn’t be in our 
way if he did get away by then. What’s your sen- 
timents, lads ?” 

’Tis too good fer him,” declared the carpenter, 
and as in the previous consultation the bo’s’n coin- 
cided with the opinion. 

There were so many diverse views expressed that 
Captain Jenkins told those who favored the death 
penalty to stand at his right and those who favored 
marooning at his left. The smaller number marched 
over to the side which meant death and the majority 
grouped themselves to the left of the erstwhile mate. 
In a grave voice Jenkins announced the decision. 

Meanwhile Captain Mandeville, his limbs bound so 
tightly he could scarcely move a muscle without 
causing him pain, had been stretched on the hard 
floor of his cabin consumed with a multitude of dis- 
quieting emotions. What terrible lust of money 
was this that transformed these ordinarily honest 
and sturdy men into mutineers and thieves ! How 
had they learned the “ Bride’s ” secret and how long 
had their evil designs been fermenting ? What was 
to become of the trust imposed upon him by the con- 
signors of the gold } His prospects were ruined for 
life. And then the captain thought of the chances 


18 


CAPTAIN MANDETILLE. 


of his being murdered by the crew. Death did net 
seem one half so fearful and even partly desirable 
now that the ship and the cargo intrusted to him 
were to be stolen ; nevertheless, the ever present 
instinct of life led him to cogitate on the possible 
means of escape. Even were his arms and legs 
unfettered it would do him little good. He might 
indeed barricade the door and make his cabin a 
citadel, but the mutineers would soon starve him out. 
A passing vessel whose captain would board the 
“ Bride of Plymouth,** a most unlikely thing, was the 
only chance. 

The captain*s reflections were interrupted by the 
noises which told him soundings were being taken^ 
and the final clanking of the anchor chain as the 
mass of iron shot downwards into the sea. His 
heart throbbed with a wild, vague hope, which he 
instantly dismissed. Soundings weren*t taken at the 
entrance to any of the Australian ports ; the pilots 
knew the channels, and, moreover, no occupied har- 
bor was within five hundred miles of the vessel. 
Then it must be — 

These cogitations were cut short by the entrance of 
the mate and the others who had made him a help- 
less prisoner. Captain Mandeville suspected, with 
calm mind, that their mission was to put an end to 
him, perhaps to slaughter him in cold blood as he 
lay ; but he made no motion, even the slightest, nor 
uttered a word. 

Well, Mister Mandeville,’* sneered Jenkins, per- 
haps you’re sorry now you didn*t treat us more 
civilly ?** 


MAROONED. 


19 


No reply. 

PVhaps he’s still too surprised to talk,” said the 
bo’s’n, leering. 

At length Captain Mandeville spoke, in a strained 
voice : 

The only thing I have to say is that every man 
of this crew will sooner or later curse the doings of 
this day. If he escapes the punishment of the law 
he will still be punished by his own remembrance. 
As for myself, let happen what will ; but I swear 
before God, if my life is not taken, and if ever I have 
the opportunity, to put you four men through just 
such torments and more than you may design me to 
suffer !” 

The manner in which these words were spoken did 
not detract from their forceful quality and in truth 
they produced an uneasy feeling in the breasts of all 
except the chief conspirator. He laughed loudly, 
slapping his thigh in excessive merriment. 

Don’t mind his lingo, mates,” said he. It’ll 
be a long enough time before he gets off the Island 
of Nowhere. He’ll herd by himself till his hair 
grows white, I reckon. Now we can’t waste any 
more time, for it’s getting towards night and unles<L 
the barometer says wrong there is one of these East 
India hurricanes due in the next twelve hours.” 

With little ceremony the captain was seized and 
led upon deck, the cords that bound his legs being 
loosened. One of the ship’s boats had been launched 
and stocked with a small keg of water, a box of hard 
biscuit and half a ham. Captain Mandeville was 
deposited in the boat with the aid of a rope under 


20 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


his arms. Four sailors jumped in and the boat was 
swiftly propelled to^the shore. 

A smooth strip of immaculately white sandy beach, 
sloping upward at a gentle angle, afforded an easy 
landing. The Captain’s bonds were cut and he was 
at liberty, if the solitude of a tiny coral isle in the 
waste of the Southern Ocean can be called such. 
The provisions contributed by the humane mutineers 
were left on a little hillock of sand, and the sailors 
rowed back to the vessel. 

The day was almost spent. Far out in the western 
horizon the red ball of the sun was shooting its bright 
rays almost parallel with the surface of the dancing 
waves. Dark masses of opaque cloud hung threat- 
ening in the sky and the breeze had freshened. All 
indications pointed to an approachingstorm. Stand- 
ing on a rock half covered with seaweed and slimy 
marine plants. Captain Mandeville looked out to 
where the Bride of Plymouth ” lay. Her anchor was 
being drawn up, and the sailors were nimbly unclew- 
ing the sails, betokening an immediate departure. 
The great sheets of the vessel distended like the 
pinions of the gigantic fabled creatures of the air as 
she darted through the water in obedience to their 
powerful impulse. In a half hour the Bride of 
Plymouth ” had almost sunk her hull and the swift 
descent of night blotted her from the view of the 
solitary spectator on the beach. 

What were the adventures of the stolen ship and 
her piratical crew thereafter is not essential to this 
narrative. 

The storm which broke a few hours after the ‘‘Bride 


MAROONED. 


21 


of Plymouth's " departure found the deserted Captain 
shelterless. A wind of hurricane strength whistled 
through the trees of the little isle, from out the inky 
darkness of the heavens poured great sheets of water 
and the ocean, lashed into fury, sent enormous waves 
crashing far up the beach. The thunderous artillery 
of the sky at intervals drowned the dull roar of the 
sea. Captain Mandeville crept under the shelter, 
such as it was, of a lofty palm ; it was more an 
anchor, for he was compelled to clutch at times the 
sturdy trunk to prevent himself from being blown 
away. At last the elements, as if wearied of their 
Titanic sport, subsided to a certain degree. By day- 
break there was no indication that a storm had ever 
occurred, save for the heavy surf and the bedraggled 
appearance of the island vegetation. 

The Robinson Crusoe of this bit of land, after 
breakfasting on the provisions which he had taken 
care to preserve during the night, set out on a tour 
of exploration. The island was barely three-quar- 
ters of a mile long and perhaps half a mile wide. It 
was nearly level except in the central portion, which 
was elevated not more than two dozen feet. The 
soil covering the coral formation was of small depth, 
yet sufficient to nourish a profuse and luxuriant 
growth of tropical plants and trees. Of the latter 
the bread palm was the most abundant, and there 
were also a number of cocoanut and plantain trees. 
These natural larders were a source of satisfaction 
to Mandeville, for without their aid he would surely 
starve, and the common instinct of self-preservation 
was strong within him. He also noted that under 


22 


CAPTAIN MANDETILLE. 


the rocks of the beach were great mussels, perhaps 
not inviting to an epicurean, but serviceable enough 
to a man with the sauce of starvation. No fire, of 
course, was to be had, unless Mandeville resorted to 
the primitive method of creating it by the friction of 
two dry sticks against each other. Neither was 
there fresh water, but the milk contained in the 
cocoanuts would be a fair substitute. 

After a week or two Captain Mandeville had ac- 
customed himself to his new conditions. He had 
built himself a rude hut from dead branches in a 
sort of natural hollow circled by a dozen overshadow- 
ing trees. He used the keg which the mutineers 
had left him to keep a supply of mussels in, and a 
heap of cocoanuts and other fruits which the island 
afforded were piled in his hut, so that on stormy 
days he need not venture out for his provender. On 
the top of the tallest tree he tied a piece of his shirt 
as a signal of distress, and for hours at a time he 
would be perched in the branches eagerly gazing 
over the broad surface of the sea for the slightest 
speck of a sail. But for eight years he never saw 
one. 

It was the time when the genius of De Lesseps had 
opened a new route to the Orient by the construc- 
tion of the Suez Canal, and the voyage taken by the 
“ Bride of Plymouth ’’ was one of the latest performed 
by vessels of the English service around the Cape of 
Good Hope. Captain Mandeville’s little island was 
now wholly out of the line of travel. When two 
years had passed he half divined the cause and gave 
up hope of everything except life. Fie felt there was 


THE SUSPECT. 


23 


a vague chance of some tramp ship visiting those 
latitudes, but with the monotonous procession of the 
uneventful months even this slight comfort was 
dissipated. 

To recount his manner of life, his substitutes for 
the things which he lacked, his sicknesses, his suffer- 
ings for those eight years that he spent on the coral 
isle, would be to repeat the many like experiences of 
similarly banished men. His strong mind alone 
sustained him. When at last he was rescued he was 
changed from a vigorous sailor in the prime of life 
to a sober, gray-haired man. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE SUSPECT, 

In the metropolis of the New World there are, as 
in other cities, three great conservers of public wel- 
fare — the police, the firemen, and the health officials. 
And of this trinity, the last is, if not the greatest, 
the one most worthy of admiration. Without the 
uniformed and ununiformed guardians of law, life 
and property would not be safe, and the criminal 
element would render the earth a hateful place. 
Without the firemen, our modern Romes and 
Athenses would be devoured in a night, and the 
world would be bankrupt. Without the official 
preservers of health, terrible pestilences would svtcep 


24 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


over the land and decimate the population. But the 
police have a tangible enemy in the forces of evil to 
deal with. The firemen know also what they are 
combating. The health doctors alone oppose a 
mysterious and deadly foe which is recognized chiefly 
by his effects. It is as an arrow shot out of the 
darkness, piercing the vitals of its victim ; now, 
where look for the archer? Moreover, when found 
he is invisible, and the subtlest inventions are re- 
quired for his destruction. 

Dr, Samuel Jollier, Chief of the Division of Con- 
tagious Diseases, was sitting in his office one morn- 
ing in early fall, reflectively engaged in considering 
the merits of a very fat and very black cigar which 
he was smoking. Occasionally he would withdraw 
the weed from his lips, gaze at it fixedly for a 
moment, and then, taking a fresh puff, would repeat 
the operation. He was a stout, and as is generally 
the accompanying circumstance, a good-natured sort 
of man, sagacious, full of energy when there was 
anything to be done ; but not given to needless 
physical or mental exertion. His predilection for 
abstraction made those with whom he came in con- 
tact think he was absent minded at times. In this 
his associates were often deceived, for when he 
appeared the most abstracted he was in reality 
engaged in attentive thought and observation. He 
had a comprehensive intellect. His enthusiasm for 
his work was an unfathomed quantity. 

Ting-a-ling-ling-ling whirred the telephone bell in 
the outer office. 


THE SUSPECT. 


26 


** Are you sure you aren’t mistaken ?” said a voice. 
** All the symptoms present, eh ? All right.” 

A moment later a sober faced attache appeared 
before Dr. Jollier. 

‘^Cowen of East Broadway reports a case of sus- 
pected Asiatic cholera at 25 Hamilton Street/’ said 
he. ' ^ 

“Strange for Dr. Cowen ; he’s a most careful 
man,” commented the chief. “ Well, I suppose we’ll 
have to send some one around. Williams will be 
here in a short time. Send him. If any one calls for 
me, tell ’em I’ve gone out for a couple of hours.” 

As he said this Dr. Jollier tossed his half consumed 
cigar out of the window, locked his desk and putting 
on the brown derby he always wore, left the build- 
ing. 

When the diagnostician. Dr. Williams, arrived, he 
received the message of his superior, and started 
off to investigate the case of the suspect. At the 
Oak Street police station he secured the services of 
a grumbling six-foot policeman, and shortly there- 
after the physician and the officer had found No. 25 
Hamilton Street, a dingy three-story brick structure. 
The street was narrow and paved, to all appearances, 
with refuse. A group of raggedy little girls were 
playing Ring-around-a-Rosy on the scant sidewalk, 
while their urchin brothers, with early inherited 
manly instincts of gambling, were indulging in the 
familiar East Side game of craps a short distance 
beyond. But for these noisy sports — the young dice 
throwers made more noise than the little girls — the 
street was quiet. Not even the peripatetic fruit sales- 


26 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


man, the rag peddler, or the beringed Italian organ 
grinder, intruded on its moneyless precincts. 

Dr. Williams's blue coat companion kicked lustily 
on the lower panel of the door of No. 25, no bell 
knob being visible. 

There was a shuffling of feet inside and about two 
inches of door was opened. Through this slight 
aperture as skinny and wrinkled a hag as ever lived 
peered furitivel)'' at the two men. 

“ Hurry up, old woman, and let us in !" ordered 
the policeman, impatiently. 

What do ye want V* queried the hag, not at all 
alarmed by the sight of the brass buttons. 

Here, my good woman," said Dr. Williams, in a 
conciliatory tone. “ Pm a doctor and Pve come to 
see your sick man. This officer is just a friend of 
mine." 

“Jimmy tould me not to let anyone in 'cept Doc- 
ther Cowen," doggedly responded the mistress of 
the situation. 

The policeman hastily thrust the toe of his No. ii 
boot into the narrow opening, and, exerting his 
strength, shoved his shoulders against the upper part 
of the door. The hag was taken by surprise, al- 
though she had hooked tlie door cliain on the inside. 
The door was torn from its well-worn hinges and it 
fell back into the hall with a crash, bringing its fe- 
male guardian down in its fall. She jumped up 
with unlooked for agility and swore at her uninvited 
visitors volubly and long, until the policeman threat- 
ened to arrest her. 

“ Where's the sick man ?" demanded the physician, 


THE SUSPECT. 


27 


‘‘Go find him yersilf/* sulkily replied the furious 
dame, retreating into the open doorway of a room. 

There was no help for it but to make a tour of the 
house. No one was encountered until the top floor 
was reached. Here there was an apartment taking 
up the entire floor. Half a hundred cheap cots 
were placed in long rows, leaving scanty aisles be- 
tween. The room was dark and contained not a 
stick of furniture besides the beds. A strong and 
nauseating odor came to the nostrils of the visitors. 
In the most obscure corner a man was reclining at 
full length and motionless on one of the cots. 

“ Hello ! This looks like a ten cent lodging- 
house,*' said Dr. Williams. “Section Ten violated, 
too." 

By the aid of a lighted gas jet the., physician 
scanned the features of the stricken man. He had a 
short stubble of gray beard over his face, which bore 
the clayey pallor of approaching dissolution. His 
eyes were glazed and they stared upwards at the 
grimy ceiling with a shocking monotony. One 
naked hairy arm lay extended upon the unclean j 
coverlet. A spread eagle, with the monogram “ L. | 
P.," was tattoed in red and green on the inside of 
the forearm just below the crook of the elbow. This 
Dr. Williams noticed when he felt the man’s pulse. 
All appearances and symptoms pointed to the fact 
that the unfortunate was in the last stages of the 
Oriental plague. A priori, it was unlikely, a wrong 
diagnosis perhaps ; at all events, he was dying. His 
white lips moved as if he were saying something. 


28 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


The doctor bent his head to listen. This, in a dron- 
ing monotone : 

M-m-Sir, help a starvin’ man to get a meal. I 
I—” 

The lips closed. 

New life seemed to start as if by magic in the 
diseased frame, the eyes momentarily lost their mean- 
ingless gaze. The head was lifted. 

‘‘ Clew the tops’l’s — aye, aye, Sir !” arose, in a 
cracked shriek. 

The head sank back, and, in the former key : 

Walkin’ the plank is good — is good — ” 

Again a burst of energy roused the delirious man. 
In a sing-song he recited : 

Sez the cap'n bold, 

In this v'yage there’s gold 
Ef ye sail ship properlee — 

But, if ye lag away 
En back talk say, 

Ye’ll be hanged fer mutinee 1” 

These were the last distinguishable words. A 
slight shudder came over the unfortunate ; then his 
limbs stiffened out. The spark of life had fled. 

All this while Dr. Williams’s companion had been 
content to stand off at a respectful distance. Send- 
ing him to summon a disinfecting wagon (which serves 
also as a dead wagon) from Headquarters, the phy- 
sician drew from his case a bottle of carbolic and 
sprinkled some of the liquid about the cot and 
bathed his hands in the rest, wiping them with his 
handkerchief. This precaution taken he sat down 


THE SUSPECT. 


29 


by the doorway to await the arrival of the disinfect- 
ing corps. 

In a short half hour the sombre vehicle of the dis- 
infectors rattled up to the house, causing a small 
panic of apprehension in the neighborhood. ' Two 
business-like young men sprang out of tlie rear of 
the wagon. One carried a pail of strong smelling 
stuff into the dwelling and the other a plain canvas 
stretcher with a rubber blanket. The driver left his 
seat and followed the young doctors inside. The 
dead man's corpse was quickly shifted to the 
stretcher, covered with the blanket and conveyed to 
the wagon. Then tlie bedding which he had had 
was well soaked with acid and likewise transferred 
to the odd hearse. After thoroughly swabbing with 
disinfectants the floor, sides and even the ceiling of 
the room in which the man had died, several saucers 
of sulphur were set afire and the door and windows 
of the apartment w^ere tightly closed. The house 
was placed under strict quarantine until a bacterio- 
logical examination should determine the true 
character of the disease. 

The corpse was removed to the city crematory at 
the foot of East Sixteenth Street and reduced to 
ashes. 


30 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


CHAPTER II. 

ASIATIC CHOLERA. 

Culture 3,594, rec'd Sept. 7, returned Sept. 8, 
from No. 25 Hamilton St. — A. Cholera.’* 

Such was the report made by the Bacteriological 
Division to the Contagious Diseases Division. Need- 
less to say, it caused mild consternation among the 
officials ; not because of the fact the disease had 
crept into the city unnoticed, but because its origin 
was so utterly untraceable. It was not intended that 
the facts should be made public ; at least, not until 
there were further developments, but an employee 
carelessly dropped a hint which sent a half dozen 
lynx-eyed reporters to besiege Dr. Jollier for infor- 
mation. The chief was somewhat annoyed, but 
knowing that it was better to furnish a truthful 
account than have a sensational mass of mendacities 
published, he told all. Barring the tremendous black 
head lines and the imaginative illustrations, this is the 
story that appeared in one of the prominent news- 
papers the following morning : 

“ Genuine Asiatic cholera has broken out in this 
city. The Health Department is in great alarm lest 
there should be an epidemic of the dread Eastern 
plague. What causes the more apprehension is that 
the victim of the disease wandered about the street 
for an uncertain time while he contained the germs 


ASIATIC CHOLERA. 


31 


of sickness. Where he caught the infection is, more- 
over, shrouded in deep mystery. Other cases are 
expected to manifest themselves at any moment. 

A professional beggar, who figures on the 
Department books as ‘ John Doe,' and who was known 
to his iellows only as ‘Michigan,' was the victim. 
He belonged to the Metropolitan Mendicants' Asso- 
ciation, which has its headquarters at No. 25 Hamil- 
ton Street, a dark, crooked little thoroughfare a few 
blocks east of Chatham Square. There he was taken 
ill with the disease early Friday morning, and died 
within four hours. He was about forty-five years 
old. 

“ Dr. Ezra Cowen, of No. 59 East Broadway, was 
summoned to the Hamilton Street house shortly 
before 9 a. m. Friday by a shabbily dressed man 
who said he was one of the inmates. Dr. Cowen 
hurried to the dwelling and found the patient in the 
sleeping room of the beggars on the top floor. He 
was suffering great pain and told the Doctor he 
thought he had the colic. The physician at first 
believed this was the case and administered certain 
simple remedies. Closer observation, however, 
aroused his suspicions and finally, becoming satis- 
fied as to the true nature of the disease, he reported 
it to Dr. Jollier's Bureau. 

' “ Diagnostician C. H, Williams went to the house 
about II o’clock. There was some difficulty in 
obtaining admittance because the old housekeeper 
said she had orders not to let anyone in but Dr. 
Cowen. Policeman Rogers convinced her it was all 
right and she opened the door. The man was in a 


32 


CAPTAIN MANDEYILLE. 


dying condition when Dr Williams arrived. He 
expired in a few minutes. His symptoms coincided 
with the cholera diagnosis, except that he was deliri- 
ous. Generally, a person in the last stage of cholera 
is unconscious. 

The corpse, with the bedding, was immediately 
removed to the foot of East Sixteenth Street, and 
cremated. The sleeping room was then treated with 
powerful disinfectants and the whole house was 
fumigated with sulphur. Two policemen were 
detailed to guard the house and prevent anyone from 
leaving it. When the beggars came in at night, each 
one was examined by an inspector of the Contagious 
Diseases Division for any signs of cholera. As soon 
as they had entered the house they were made virtual 
prisoners. There are about fifty members of the 
Association. 

The report of Bacteriologist Wilbur yesterday 
justified the quarantine, for in the discharges obtained 
from the dead man the previous day, the genuine 
spirrilla of Asiatic cholera were developed. To 
insure correctness two separate cultures were made. 
In each the cholera bacilli were present in large 
quantities. 

The movements of the man ^ Michigan ' for the 
past few days is what the doctors would like to know* 
It seems that each member of the beggars’ associa- 
tion is allotted a new district in which to operate 
every day. ‘ King Jimmy ’ Standish, the chief of the 
beggars, attends to that and also receives a great 
share of the members’ earnings to pay for the house 
fent, food, etc. On Thursday ^ Michigan ’ was workr 


ASTATIC CHOLERA. 


S3 


ing the district between Fifth and Sixth Avenues, 
and Fortieth and Fiftieth Streets. Nearly all the 
begging in this section is done at basement doors. 
‘ Michigan ’ brought home only $2.90 in small coins 
that night, which caused the * King ' to reprove him 
for not getting more from such a rich assignment. 
^ Michigan ' told of the excellent reception he had 
had at one house. He was given a fine dinner and 
the man of the house waited on him himself. No 
one else was around when he dined. This practically 
is all that is known concerning * Michigan's ' where- 
abouts the day before he was taken ill. 

‘Mt is exceedingly improbable that he caught the 
germs before Thursday, for they manifest themselves 
as a rule within twenty hours. If the food at No. 
25 Hamilton Street had been infected, the other 
tramps would be ill. But none of them showed the 
least sign of the disease, even by late last night. 

“ Therefore, it is pretty evident the disease was 
contracted outside the house. But where? And 
where* is that other person sick with cholera ? Not 
even a suspected case of it has recently occurred. 
Again, it is a mystery how the disease got into New 
York at all. No ship from a cholera port has arrived 
this season, nor has the presence of the plague been 
reported in any other American cities. The spora- 
dic theory is discarded as an easy non-solution of the 
problem. 

Vigorous efforts will be made by the health offic- 
ials to find the original source. 

“ The beggar called ‘ Michigan ' had been a mem- 
ber of the Mendicants' Association for three or four 


34 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


years. He was very reticent as to his past, but 
sometimes, wlien in his cups, would tell how he once 
was a sailor and voyaged all over the world. No 
one knew what his right name was, as he always 
went by the sobriquet of ‘ Michigan.’ It was be- 
stowed upon him because he resembled another beg- 
gar who hailed from that State. The police profess 
not to have known anything about a beggars’ soci- 
ety in this city. They understood the Hamilton 
Street dwelling to be an ordinary cheap lodging- 
house. 

It is a grimy, three story brick structure with 
faded green blinds and a mansard roof. Several 
panes of glass are broken in the front windows, and 
it has an air of unclean shabbiness.” 

The publication of the above caused several 
thousand timorous citizens to adopt a non-liquid 
diet, and provoked the further publication of numer- 
ous articles telling how cholera might be prevented. 
The quarantined house was watched by reporters 
day and night, and the manner in wdiich the inmates 
lived, how they were fed, what tliey did for amuse- 
ment, and all, was minutely chronicled. Dozens of 
suspected cases were reported to the Health Depart- 
ment from other parts of the city, and in each case 
it proved to be a false alarm. Two weeks passed 
'I without any cholera symptoms appearing in the 
Hamilton Street house. Then the quarantine was 
raised and the mendicants were free to pursue their 
chosen avocation. The best indication of the de- 
cline of public interest in the affair was the tapering 
off of the reports in the newspapers, which began 


35 


MR. GEORGE BARRETT, RANKER. 

with two columns, scare head lines and pictures, 
finally dropped to a paragraph, and ended with 
nothing. 

But the mystery of it continued to engage the 
thoughts of the Health officers for a much longer 
time. It was particularly exasperating to Dr. Jollier, 
and he was heard to say that he would give a month’s 
salary for a satisfactory explanation. No one 
claimed the salary. 


CHAPTER III. 

MR. GEORGE BARRETT, BANKER. 

At the close of a beautiful day, when the sky was 
clear and blue as the waters of the bay, the air re- 
freshing, Dr. Jollier started to walk home from his 
office, as was his custom on such days, He turned 
into that still humming thoroughfare, Broadway, 
and swung along the pavement at a rapid pace, his 
erect and stalwart figure towering above the common 
run of jostling pedestrians. He had not proceeded 
far when he heard his name called out, and, turning, 
saw before him his friend, George Barrett, the well- 
known banker and broker. 

‘‘Ah, Doctor, we are both homeward bound. I’ll 
wager, and I see you favor the good old medicine of 
a walk,” said the banker, extending his hand. 

“Yes,” smilingly responded Dr. Jollier, “ I always 


36 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLT). 


prefer exercise to pills. But it surprises me that 
you can find time to walk. Let's see, how much did 
the Record say every minute of your time is worth ?” 

‘‘ Nonsense !" laughed the other. My time is 
worth much less than yours — that means lives, mine 
only dollars." 

That sounds very well, and, since you have men- 
tioned it, may I ask how the other financiers have 
treated you to-day ?" 

The banker made a wry face. 

Well, as to that, it was my own fault," said he. 

The old speculative fever got hold of me and I 
took quite a flyer in Chicago gas. In other words, I 
contributed to the combination. Just a good lesson, 
you know ; enough until the next time. Fm not 
supposed, anyway, to risk my own 'money, but my 
clients' — under their directions, of course." 

Still, you aren’t mourning over it," commented 
Dr. Jollier. 

No !" exclaimed Barrett. One loses his re- 
gard for money ; that is, money as a purchaser of 
this and that necessity or luxury, when he enters the 
Stock Exchange. He is in a great gambling game 
and it’s glory or ignominy according as the fates 
direct. The slips of paper, checks and what-not, 
that represent his wealth — they are only the weap- 
ons with which he fights another man’s slips. 
Actual bankruptcy, when his home and his carriages 
and horses are taken away, is the only time he 
realizes what it really means. You see, I am some- 
thing of a philosopher." 

“ Quite so. And as this is Waverly Place, I shall 


THE ANONYMOUS LETTER. 


37 


be compelled to leave you to continue the rest of 
your walk alone/* 

Dine with me/’ said the banker. 

Thank you, but perhaps you know my family is 
very strict about having me home at such an hour 
every evening,” replied Dr. Jollier. 

Yes, and so’s my wife. But I don’t mind saying 
Tve got something on my mind that’s puzzling ; 
something that you could help me about ; an anony- 
mous letter, in fact. I’ll show it to you after dinner 
if you come.” 

Barrett was so insistent that Dr. Jollier finally con- 
sented, and as it was growing late, both men boarded 
a cable car. They alighted at Twentieth Street and 
walked across to the financier’s mansion on Gram-, 
mercy Park. The lamp-lighter was just going his 
rounds in the street when a pompous liveried foot- 
man threw open the heavy oaken door, and the 
banker and his guest passed into the house. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE ANONYMOUS LETTER, 

Mr. George Barrett, banker, was one of the better 
types of those men who make money-getting the 
business of their lives. He was neither sordid nor 
philanthropic. According to the standards of the 
Street,” he was honest to a nice degree. Yet he did 
not hesitate to adopt the prevailing methods of 


88 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


downing an opponent. His great wealth made him 
an object of some attention and respect, but he 
never sought to push himself into excessive publicity. 
No particularly daring feats in finance had been 
ascribed to him, and so he was classed as a conser- 
vative. He rarely attended banquets and was not 
addicted to after-dinner speech making. People 
said vaguely that he was a self-made man. Who 
and what he was before he arrived at his material 
success nobody seemed to know ; nor did they care. 
The past history of a man is only necessary when he 
is running for a political office — necessary to the 
other side. 

! In personal appearance, Barrett was rather tall, 
and he wore longish side whiskers tinged with gray. 
His eyes were a twinkling blue. His dress was con- 
ventional, except that he generally wore a dark 
Prince Albert coat that reached to his knees ; his 
head was surmounted with a glossy tile. Decidedly 
he did not conform to the notion of a well fed, pursy 
financier. Some of his friends jokingly remarked 
that he resembled a Yankee sea captain, a compari- 
son which the banker plainly did not relish. In 
manners he was unaffected and even cordial, but he 
had a considerable stock of dignity which he dis- 
played on occasion. 

Handsomely and even luxuriously though his 
home was furnished, he did not derive much com- 
fort from that fact. It pleased his wife and that was 
sufficient. Mrs. Barrett, a stately sort of person, 
who did not scorn the assistance of fine clothes and 


THE ANONYMOUS LETTER. 


39 


jewelry in rendering herself attractive, greeted her 
husband’s guest effusively : 

“ Oh, Dr. Jollier, how do you do ?” she said. It’s 
such a long time since you were here last that I 
feared you quite meant to cut us.” 

‘^My dear madam,” said the physician, with a 
gallant bow, were my ability equal to my desire I 
should never be elsewhere.” 

Mrs. Barrett laughed gayly at the extravagant 
reply, 

A chubby youngster of eight or nine rushed into 
the room, and, catching sight of the visitor, fairly 
howled : 

Wherish my pwesent, D’cter Jolly ?” 

Why, Eddie,” said Mrs. Barrett, reprovingly, 
‘‘ you shouldn’t shout like that, and you know it isn’t 
nice to ask papa’s friend for presents.” 

I think Master Edward is right, Mrs. Barrett,” 
said Dr. Jollier, taking the lusty lunged youth on 
his knee. I did promise to bring him something 
the next time I came. Unfortunately, I forgot all 
about it.” 

The look of acute disappointment on the little boy’s 
face was such that Dr. Jollier hastened to solemnly 
promise something very fine within a day or two. 
Edward regained his spirits and joyfully scampered 
away. 

And now I won’t detain you any longer,” said 
the hostess ‘‘ as it is almost dinner time. — P’shaw, 
Doctor ! Even if we had a tableful I’m sure you 
wouldn’t be criticised for not wearing the conven- 
tional dress that means so much to do-nothing men.” 


40 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


The host took Dr. Jollier up to his own room and 
soon the two were ready to dine. Mrs. Barrett was 
the only other person at the table. After coffee had 
been served she retired, leaving the gentlemen alone. 

A bottle of claret was ordered from the cellar and 
then the cigars were lighted. 

Various topics were discussed and the time flew 
so rapidly that Dr. Jollier was about to take his de- 
parture when he recollected what the banker had 
said to him on inviting him to his home. 

‘‘By-the-by, Barrett,’* said he, ‘‘what about that 
anonymous letter you mentioned ?” 

“ That’s so,” quoth the host, losing his care-free 
expression. “ It had quite slipped my memory. 
Really, now, I'm almost sorry I spoke of it. Doesn’t 
amount to anything, I fancy.” 

Barrett took from his coat a leather pocket-book 
and rummaged among the papers with which it 
was filled. He drew forth an envelope bearing his 
name in typewritten characters. Inside was a single 
sheet of thick white paper, which, folded, just fitted 
the envelope. There was no date line. The letter 
(also typewritten) read abruptly thus : 

“ ‘ George Barrett * : — The time has come for you 
to meet your God and answer for your earthly acts 
to Him. Settle your affairs within this week, for 
before another one commences you will be counted 
with the dead. The agency employed will be swift 
and sure ; no one will discover it ; you cannot es- 
cape it. REMEMBER THE ‘ BRIDE OF PLYM- 
OUTH ! * ” 


THE ANONYMOUS LETTER. 


41 


Dr. Jollier read the letter in silence. Glancing at 
the postmark on the envelope he noticed that it had 
been mailed between 6 and 8 p. m., the previous day, 
in some part of the district covered by Station L. 
Neither the envelope nor the slip of paper inside bore 
the imprint of the manufacturer, not even a water 
mark, which fact was ascertained by Dr. Jollier's hold- 
ing them alternately up to the strong light of the 
dinner-table candelabra. 

‘‘When did you receive this communication !" 

“ Beforegoing down town this morning," replied 
Barrett, becoming uneasy at the gravity of his friend. 

“I see." 

Several seconds passed during which neither man 
spoke. 

The host broke the spell with a laugh which did 
not seem spontaneous. 

“This is childish," he said. “I have no doubt 
some scamp on 'Change sent the letter. Let me fill 
your glass." 

“ Thanks, but I've already had more than I am 
accustomed to take," said Dr. Jollier, quietly. “As 
to the letter, it may indeed be a hoax. But I re- 
ceived such a one myself once. I threw it aside. A 
few nights after, as I was entering my house, a fel- 
low sprang out of the darkness and tried to carve 
my heart. He missed the first lunge and I rapped 
him over the head with my walking stick. He’s now 
in Sing Sing serving a fifteen years' sentence. Had 
some grievance that I've forgotten." 

“ 'Pon my word," exclaimed Barrett, “you frighten 


me. 


42 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLK. 


“ Then I apologize/' calmly responded the guest. 

Only one might as well take precautions. If you 
don’t mind, I’ll catechise you a bit.” 

‘‘ Proceed.” 

Have you any real enemies ?” 

“ Oh, lots of ’em !” said the banker, almost enthu- 
siastically. ‘‘There’s ‘Senator’ Dobson that I 
squeezed on the wheat deal six months ago. He 
promised to bankrupt me if it took ten years. Tom 
Lachaussee is only waiting for an opportunity to do 
likewise. John Burrows opposes me every chance 
he gets. In fact I’ve got more enemies than I can 
count.” 

Dr. Jollier could not repress a smile as he said : 

“ Those are not the kind of men you need appre- 
hend physical injury from. Can’t you think of anyr 
one who has a powerful motive to harm you ? And 
to come right down to a solution, why does your 
unknown correspondent put your name in quotation 
marks ? And what is the meaning of the words 
‘ Remember the Bride of Plymouth ?’ ” 

Barrett cast an uncomfortable roving eye about 
the richly decorated room. He nervously stroked 
his flowing whiskers. Dr. Jollier regarded him 
intently. Finally the banker spoke, with an effort : 

“ Of course I am aware. Doctor, that you regard 
this conversation as sacred. I am about to tell you 
something I told no man before. First, I will ring 
for some brandy, if you have no objection.” 

Gulping down a small wine glass full of the liquor 
which a servant brought, the host began : 

“ My story is a brief one and perhaps you will not 


THE ANONYMOUS LETTER. 


43 


think it worth recounting. But here it is : So far 
as I remember, I have been in this world just eleven 
years. Sounds odd, doesn't it ? True as gospel, 
though. One afternoon, eleven years ago to-day, I 
commenced my present existence in St. Mary's 
Hospital in San Francisco. I was in bed. My mind 
was a complete blank. I asked the nurse what was 
the matter. She told me I was recovering from an 
attack of brain fever ; had been found in the street a 
week previous and brought to the hospital. Noth- 
ing was on my person to identify me except a bank 
book of the Nevada National Bank, with the sum of 
$2,000 placed to the credit of ^ George Barrett/ My 
name might have been George Smith, for aught I 
knew. That is how I got the name I now bear. 

When I left the hospital everything was new to 
me. I was not aware that I had ever lived before, 
only that I could talk English. If I had any relatives 
previous to my illness, they never came to claim me, 
and I never found them. I was apparently a man of 
forty, stout and strong in body, but mentally a child. 
I began to educate myself by joining a night school. 
In some of the studies I was unusually facile ; the 
geography book, for instance, I scarcely glanced 
through before I was intimately acquainted with its 
contents. Grammar, however, was uphill work, and 
I usually went to the foot of the class on that. 
Having exhausted the learning of the night school 
instructor, I took up private reading and study, 
finding much satisfaction in books. Then, with my 
little capital only slightly impaired, I entered a 
banking office a§ clerk. Gradually I was advanced. 


44 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


What with my savings and the remainder of the 
original $2,000, at the end of five years I was enabled 
to start in business for myself. I made money, came 
to New York, made more money, married, and now 
have a son. Vague glimpses of the past have reached 
me at intervals ever since I commenced my new life. 
I am often able to accurately answer questions on 
topics which I cannot recall ever having studied. 
Then, too, I am shown things that I am unable to 
recollect having seen, yet instantly recognize them 
as intimate objects. For about a year I have care- 
fully noted the general trend of my misty remem- 
brances, and I have come to the conclusion that at 
some earlier period of my life I was a sailor of some 
sort. Now you have absolutely everything.’* 

While Barrett was relating his history, his guest 
looked straight at him, albeit with an absent-minded 
air. 

Doctor !” cried the banker, I have been boring 
you.” 

“ On the contrary, I have been deeply absorbed. 
To revert to my original question, what about the 
^ Bride of Plymouth ?’ Do you remember who or 
what she was ?” 

“ I intended to speak of that. A ship the * Bride 
of Plymouth ’ was, and that’s all I can recollect. 
That recollection only came to me when you asked.” 

Then you were captain of her, and the fellow that 
wrote this anonymous letter was under your com- 
mand,” said Dr. Jollier. 

It may be so^” slowlj^ responded Barrett, 


SUDDEN DEATH. 


45 


Dr^ Jollier pulled out his watch. The hands 
pointed almost to midnight. 

“High time for me to go/' said he, “and perhaps 
it may be as well for you to keep a sharp look-out 
for your mysterious correspondent. I wouldn't walk 
home alone for awhile if I were you. Take a cab,” 

“ Thank you," said the banker. “I believe your 
advice is good, and I will adopt it." 

“ Good-night." 

“ Good -night." 

The two men cordially shook hands. Dr. Jollier 
walked briskly towards Broadway. Barrett turned 
back into his house and closed the door. 


CHAPTER V. 

SUDDEN DEATH. 

“Mr. Leland !" called the city editor of the Trum- 
pet^ raising his head above his desk so that he could 
survey the paper littered office and its occupants. 

A shirt sleeved young man threw down his pen 
and leisurely answered the summons. He was of 
medium height, well dressed (so far as one could 
judge of that fact minus a coat), and might fairly be 
called handsome. His features were regular and 
had a cast which impressed the observer that their 
owner had a well developed sense. of the humorous. 

* Of course, this is not the real name of the newspaper. 


46 


CAPTAIN MANBEVILLE. 


A certain shrewd look in the dark eyes confirmed 
this impression and added the estimate that he was 
not an easily daunted person, but one rather accus- 
tomed to conquer over difficulties. For the benefit 
of those who demand such details, it may be stated 
that his hair was very black, though not at all in- 
clined to curliness. 

‘‘ I believe you called me, Mr. Hilton.'^ 

Ah, yes, Leland. What are you doing now V* 

'‘Just finishing the ferryboat collision of this 
morning.'* 

“ How much are you making ?" 

" Only three sticks or so." 

Mr. Hilton murmured "Ah!" and rubbed his 
forehead as if he were rubbing out an idea. 

" See here," said he, " I wish you’d get through as 
soon as possible and then try to find the Secretary of 
the Treasury. There’s a report that he’s in town, 
butWall Street doesn’t know it, and I don’t want our 
man down there to look for him, because, of course, 
the combination would have to get it if he did.’’ 

" All right, sir," responded Leland, briskly. " Do 
you know the object of Mr. Vailson’s visit?" , 

The city editor did not. 

Leland quickly finished his collision article and 
leaving it to the tender mercies of the copy readers 
hastened away in search of Secretary Vailson. It 
was three o’clock and business, on the exchanges at 
least, was suspended. 

Catching a Secretary of the Treasury who is 
traveling and who has laid deep plans to elude 
interviewers, is about as uncertain work as chamois 


SUDDEN DEATH, 


47 


hunting in the Alps. The former is, if anything, a 
little the more difficult, for there is but one secretary 
to catch. Arthur Leland had no very definite idea 
as to his destination as he dodged the crowds of 
pedestrians on the narrow pavement of Nassau 
Street. But it was not the first time he had sallied 
forth on similar scanty knowledge, and the hope 
which is said to spring eternal in the human breast 
was with him an abiding quality. 

Close by Maiden Lane, that thoroughfare of jewels, 
there is a modest little cafe, much frequented by 
clerks in the tall buildings where the finances of the 
country are largely juggled. To give its precise 
location or describe its outward appearance would 
advertise this interesting resort, a dreadful occur- 
rence to all chroniclers of events. Entering this 
cafe, Leland glanced about from one table to another 
until he saw, as he had expected, a subordinate 
cashier in the sub-treasury, sitting in the farthest 
corner, equally dividing his time between a glass of 
red wine and an evening newspaper. The man was 
of a florid, hearty style, and his age was perhaps 
thirty-five. He was a good friend of Leland and 
had often been useful sub rosa to him. 

Yes, Mr. Boden had seen the Cabinet officer. The 
honorable gentleman had been driven to the rear 
entrance of the sub-treasury in a closed cab about 
an hour since. He had met there prominent persons 
and had made an engagement to dine with them at 
Delmonico’s, in Broad Street, at half past four 
o’clock. This was the extent of Mr. Boden’s infor- 
mation, communicated in a cautious whisper lest 


48 


CAPTAII^ MANDETILLJJ. 


malignant ears should mark his indiscretion in im- 
parting State secrets. Thanking him, Leland de- 
parted, considerably elated, to lay in wait at the 
restaurant for* his unsuspecting quarry. 

The downtown house of gourmands was well filled 
with customers when Leland took up his post at a 
table near the door. A waiter approached and with a 
solemn bow proffered a bill of fare and asked what 
monsieur would be pleased to have. Monsieur 
wished nothing at present ; he was waiting for some 
gentleman. The waiter bowed as solemnly as before 
and retired. 

Fragmentary bits of conversation, literal Sanscrit 
to those unversed in the mysteries of finance, floated 
about. 

— told him to look out for that Wabash 
crowd — 

‘‘ And so he went under, eh ? Well — ” 

— said zy3 — means ‘ unload* in our cipher. Did 
it.** 

And r 

Won ten thousand.** 

— why, I think P. C. C. & St. L. bulling was a 
genuine — ’* 

— wouldn't touch those damned bonds — *' 

‘^Nipped me badly — was short. But I wired to 
our San Francisco man and — *' 

— elected director yesterday.’* 

Sage asked him what right he had in there. 
Flashed proxies for majority. Kicked old Sage 
himself — ** 


SUDDEN DEATH. 


49 


Crash ! went a tableful of crockery on the marble 
floor, followed by a hoarse cry and a dull fall. 

Every diner in the establishment jumped up in 
alarm and looked around for the cause of the com- 
motion. A man seated alone in the center of the 
apartment had apparently been seized with a fit and 
had fallen to the floor. The speculators and fin- 
anciers crowded around the prone figure of the man, 
and several exclaimed in a breath : 

Why, it’s George Barrett !” 

A glass of ice-water was dashed in his face. One 
man, who never spoke to Barrett on the street, 
knelt down and chafed his hands. Another hurried 
out in search of a doctor, if one was obtainable in 
the neighborhood, while Leland engaged a coupe to 
take the man home as soon as he should recover. 
The waiters alone, who had never been taught to do 
anything besides serve food and receive gratuities, 
stood idle. 

The stricken man presented a peculiar appearance. 
Instead of being deathly pale, as in an ordinary faint, 
his face was very red and there were almost imper- 
ceptible dark blotches on it. And Barrett was not 
inclined to be apopleptic. He breathed faintly. 

Soon the messenger who had gone for a physician 
returned, saying he had been unsuccessful. 

Send for a hospital ambulance,” suggested some- 
one. 

“ That would never do. Think of the publicity,” 
quoth another. 

But, man, look at his face ! He may be dying !” 
cxclaime(J the first. 


50 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


A Chambers Street Hospital ambulance was finally 
summoned through the medium of a policeman. It 
was a full half hour before it arrived, and all this 
while Barrett had remained unconscious. 

The ambulance surgeon made a hasty examination 
and observing a smell of liquor in the financier’s 
breath, rose to his feet and contemptuously remarked: 

He’s drunk. He needs to be taken home and 
put to bed.” 

Then the surgeon walked out, angrily muttering 
that people ought to be locked up for calling an 
ambulance to attend a drunken man. 

I never knew Barrett to drink enough for this,” 
observed the man who had suggested the ambulance. 

If it’s so, the question is who's going to see him 
home. I can’t because I must take the 5 : 30 train 
for Philadelphia.” 

No one fancied accompanying an intoxicated 
citizen in a carriage to his house. 

At length Leland volunteered. He was quite well 
acquainted with the banker, and was not unwilling 
to take a little trouble on his account. Moreover, he 
had a vague suspicion that the surgeon might have 
been incorrect in his conclusion. It was after the 
time set by the Secretary of the Treasury to meet 
his friends, and as he was a punctual man either the 
engagement had been called off, or Leland’s inform^ 
ant had heard wrongly. So there was no reason for 
his staying longer. 

The drive to Grammercy Park seemed intermin- 
able to Arthur Leland. It was an odd sort of 
predicament, too — to be the escort, in a closed 


SUDDEN DEATH. 


51 


vehicle, of an intoxicated millionaire. Rather a 
strange ending of his assignment, thought the young 
man. Sprawling half on the cushioned seat and half 
on the floor of the cab, lay Barrett, without sound 
or movement. The light from newly lit street lamps 
began to illumine by flashes the interior of the coupe 
as it rattled up Fourth Avenue. The jehu turned 
sharply down Fourteenth Street and repeated the 
quick turn when he drove up Irving Place, nearly 
throwing Leland each time on his unconscious 
companion. 

It was a welcome conclusion when the wheels 
ceased to roll and the driver, jumping down, threw 
open the door of the carriage. The next thing was 
to get Barrett decently indoors. 

Shall I ring up his vallit, sir ?” respectfully in- 
quired the driver. 

Well, we won’t be particular about the vallit,” 
said Leland. couple of servants will do.” 

The dignified footman who answered the door 
bell was informed of his master’s helpless condition, 
and relaxed sufficiently to observe : 

“ Hintoxicated, you say, sir ? Hi never see master 
that way hafore. Hit truly hastonishes me !” 

Thereupon the flunkey called a fellow servant and 
between them the limp form of the banker was car- 
ried into the mansion and to his room. Leland, after 
thwarting an attempt of the cabby to overcharge, 
followed the servants upstairs. 

If Barrett’s appearance had excited comment be- 
fore, it was stranger now. His face was even more 
flushed, his hands were white as marble and icy cold, 


52 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


while his breath came in short gasps. Leland quickly 
dispatched a servant for the family physician, and 
cautioned the others not to let their mistress know 
that her husband was in the house. He felt that he 
was warranted in thus temporarily taking charge of 
affairs, for even to the inexperienced eye it was plain 
that Barrett was suffering from something more 
serious than excessive liquor. 

An onyx clock on the carved wood mantel ticked 
the minutes away in a solem’h fashion. Leland sat 
by the couch on which the unconscious man was 
stretched and keenly watched his unnaturally rosy 
countenance. 

After a considerable interval Dr. Shull, the family 
physician, arrived. He was a fussy little man with 
a querulous sort of air. He stopped short in the 
doorway, and, spying Leland, rapidly exclaimed : 

^‘Well, well, my dear sir, are you a friend of my 
patient 

The interrogated one briefly explained who he was 
and the circumstances of the banker's illness. 

Right, sir, quite right, sir ; but I hope that you 
are not here in your — er — capacity as a representa- 
tive of — 

The little doctor did not finish the sentence, for by 
this time he had dropped down on his knees beside 
the couch and was examining the patient. 

Puz — zling case, ex — traordinary case," he mut- 
tered to himself. “ Not apoplexy and he isn't in 
liquor. Heart’s too slow." 

In the next ten minutes the doctor was rushing 
about and giving directions to servants in a way that 


SUDDEN DEATH. 


63 


was alarming. He dived into his case, drew out 
various bottles, and administered some of their con- 
tents in turn to the patient. No satisfactory results 
apparently obtaining from these remedies, he em- 
ployed hypodermic injections, placed a bag of 
cracked ice under his head and hot water bottles 
against his feet. But no improvement was yet ob- 
served, and Dr. Shull turned despairingly to Leland. 

“ Good God he cried, I can do nothing, and 
the man won^t live five minutes longer. Heaven 
knows what ails him. I don’t and I’ve doctored 
that man for four years. I never came across a sim- 
ilar case in my life. It’s not apoplexy, nor sun- 
stroke, nor liquor, nor fever, nor a burst blood 
vessel.” 

In a more subdued tone the physician added : 

We’d better call Mrs. Barrett.” 

Leland performed the delicate and difficult task of 
informing Mrs. Barrett, as best he could. She was 
entertaining some friends in the conservatory of the 
mansion. With a set face she swiftly made her way 
to her husband’s room. Leland followed, almost 
feeling as if he were the cause of the whole awful 
catastrophe. 

Dr. Shull was holding the wrist of the dying man. 
He dropped it just as the wife entered. 

Is he alive, Doctor ?” she asked, in a hoarse 
whisper. 

The physician mournfully turned away. 

With a piercing and anguished cry the bereaved 
wife threw herself across her husband’s body. 

She was mercifully allowed to faint. 


54 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE, 


CHAPTER VI. 

A MORGUE SUBSTITUTION. 

The sudden death of George Barrett caused a pro- 
found sensation in the financial world. Half a 
dozen tottering enterprises, which only flourished 
because it was known they had his powerful sup- 
port, fell to the ground and collapsed entirely. 
Other enterprises, which had been struggling against 
extinction, owing to his adverse influence, sprang 
into vigorous life. On 'Change it was felt that one 
of the Powers, to regulate, destroy, or upbuild, had 
gone, and a characteristic fluctuation ensued. It 
was as if an important member of a ship's crew had 
disappeared and the conduct of the vessel was er- 
ratic until there could be a new adjustment and 
assignment of posts. These were some of the more 
patent results. 

The press, indispensable source of all knowledge, 
recounted with infinite detail all the circumstances of 
the banker’s demise. Heart disease of long stand- 
ing” was the published cause of death. How he 
had lived and what he had done were told in ex- 
tended form. He had left a fortune of over a mil- 
lion dollars to his wife. 

Some papers printed eulogies of him, as one of 
our most distinguished citizens, a model of integrity, 
a millionaire, yet knowing the grave obligations of 
wealth, a philanthropist.” Some others were not so 


A MORauE substitution. 


55 


praiseful and dubbed him ‘^Plutocrat.” Anecdotes 
of famous moneyed transactions in which he had 
figured were not wanting. 

The funeral from Grace Church was eloquently 
described. The rector, Dr. H , assisted by not- 

able clergymen, officiated, and an affecting address 
as to the sterling qualities of the deceased was de- 
livered. His simple home life was touchingly por- 
trayed. The altar was decorated with beautiful 
flowers. The ebony casket had laid upon it a floral 
device forming the words, ‘‘ Gone to His Reward.*’ 
The pall bearers were former business associates of 
the dead. Nos. 246 and 302 were sung by the choir, 
and a solo, Asleep in Jesus,” was exquisitely 

rendered by Miss L When the modulated 

voice of the rector ceased, and the grandly melan- 
cholic notes of the organ thrilled the solemn air, 
many were moved to tears. There was a similar 
display of emotion at the rendition of the solo. 

Last of all came the temporary interment in that 
fair city of sleepers. Greenwood. Orders were given 
for a costly mausoleum as the final resting place. 

It would have been a mighty surprise and shock 
had the public known that the casket supposed to 
contain the millionaire’s body, over which occurred 
the impressive funeral services, really held the 
corpse of an unknown from the city morgue. Such, 
however, was the fact. Not more than three persons 
were aware of it. 

In her distress on that fatal evening, Mrs. Barrett 
had sent for Dr. Jollier. He arrived scarcely an 
hour after the death of his friend. Accustomed as 


56 


CAPTAIN MANDEVlLLE. 


he was to rude lacerations and often as he came in 
contact with the stern realities, indeed rubbed 
shoulders with them daily, his grief was poignant, 
though he did not show it outwardly. He remem- 
bered the anonymous letter which had warned Bar- 
rett to ‘‘ prepare to meet '' his ‘‘ God/* and like a 
flash, the sickness of horror and grounded suspicion 
entered his soul. That letter had said the one who 
received it would not live out the week. Nor had 
he. An assassin’s hand ? Yes !** wildly answered 
quick divination. Wait. We shall see,” said cool 
judgment. 

When Dr. Jollier viewed the remains of what had 
two short hours before been a breathing, thinking 
human being, his sudden fears were fully sustained. 
Even now the face had a repulsive redness and dark- 
ened blotches were well defined, a most inexplicable 
condition. The brief history of the symptoms, the 
rapidity with which the end had followed the attack 
— everything pointed to the necessity of the closest 
scrutiny. 

Dr. Jollier’s apprehensions went beyond the reve- 
lations likely to be furnished by an ordinary autopsy. 
He formulated a plan which was in effect to have 
the body secretly removed to a private dissecting 
room where the proper investigations might be 
made. If his suspicions proved just, it, was better 
the hidden slayer should not be made known the dis- 
covery, for then the chances of catching him were 
weakened. If it was simply an abnormal manifesta- 
tion of natural causes there was no particular harm 
done. The position of Dr. Jollier as Chief of the 


A MORGUE SUBSTITUTION. 


57 


Division of Contagious Diseases gave him ample 
opportunity to carry out his plan. He hurried to 
the residence of Dr. Shull, and, without telling more 
than was necessary, obtained his promise not to 
inform the coroner, as was usual, but to make a 
sealed report of the case and send it to himself. Dr. 
Jollier assured the little doctor that he would stand 
the consequences of such irregularity. 

The next thing was to intercept Arthur Leland 
before he reached the Trumpet office, or, in any 
event, to prevent his writing an account of the 
banker’s strange death. This was accomplished by 
sending the young man from a convenient station 
on Broadway a telegraphic dispatch, which read : 

Make heart disease effected Barrett’s death. No 
sensation. Details later. Samuel Jollier.” 

Leland had just given the night city editor an ink- 
ling of the story and had been enthusiastically com- 
manded to employ all the space he wished, when a 
messenger boy loafed in with the dispatch. The re- 
cipient scanned it and felt more than disappointed. 
Here was a complete first-page, two column article, 
a “ beat on the town,” which would add new laurels 
to the writer, thrown away ! Leland felt certain 
there was good reason for the publication of the 
article he had mentally outlined and the wording of 
the message confirmed his belief, but he was also 
aware that Dr. Jollier would not stop his pen with- 
out very excellent ground. Even looking at it in a 
selfishly practical way, the friendship of an official 


58 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


like Dr. Jollier was of more value than any single 
article. So Leland, albeit reluctantly, informed his 
superior of the new turn of things. 

No mystery, eh? Well, that’s a deuced misfor- 
tune. But as it is, you’ve got a first-class story. It’s 
a beat on the death, anyway.” 

And the night city editor turned his attention to 
the report of a religious meeting. 

It remained for Dr. Jollier to engage an under- 
taker’s wagon and secure a substitute corpse from 
the morgue. The keeper had to be roused from his 
house across the street. He was very accommodating 
when he learned who his visitor was and pointed out 
the unclaimed bodies with brief dissertations on the 
particular merits of each. 

If you want one for dissectin’,” quoth the old 
man, cheerfully, can recommend this here subjec* 
He’s only a week old and we got him from the river, 
but he ain’t waterlogged nor nothin’. I’ll guarantee 
he’s got solid flesh yet.” 

“What’s that you say, sir?” answered the guide. 
“ Tall and with whiskers ? Well, sir, there’s No. 6. 
He’s got beautiful whiskers, but he ain’t tall. Fif- 
teen is tall — five foot, eleven — but he ain’t got whis- 
kers. What kind o’ whiskers do you like? French 
cut, long and flowin’, or parted? This one’s got a 
nice moustache, but he’s been with us quite a while. 
Seems like an old friend, he does. The fellow in 
the corner is all right, barrin’ he’s pretty well soaked 
with water. Take 24 ? Certainly, sir !” 

Between the driver and the garrulous keeper 
Number 24 was conveyed to the wagon, and Dr. Jol- 


A Morgue substitution. 


59 


Her gave the keeper a receipt, at the same time 
slipping a bill into his hand. 

Thank you, kindly, sir,’' said the obliging dealer 
in inanimate horrors. ‘‘ If you ever want anything 
in my line again, you’ll get the best there is, sir.” 

A church clock was striking the hour of midnight 
when the black vehicle with its ghastly freight rattled 
into Gramercy Park. Dr. Jollier could not repress 
a feeling of satisfaction that so far his plan had suc- 
ceeded. His hardest task had been to persuade 
Mrs. Barrett to allow the substitution. Coming on 
top of her sudden affliction it was a dazing and re- 
volting proposition this — to have her husband’s 
body taken away from her almost before she had 
time to realize his death, and in all likelihood be 
submitted to the knives of surgeons. Then to have 
an unknown unfortunate’s corpse take the place of 
her husband’s and be given the funeral which be- 
longed to him. Naturally she was filled with indig- 
nant loathing at the bare thought. But Dr. Jollier 
gently, and with as little pain to her as possible, told 
the reasons which necessitated the act, and she 
weepingly assented. A woman of weaker and less 
intelligent mind would have collapsed with the ter- 
rible happenings. 

The idea occurred to Dr. Jollier that an empty 
coffln, or at least one containing something equiva- 
lent in weight to a human body, might serve instead 
of another corpse. In that event, however, the 
undertaker who took charge of the remains, or some 
assistant, would learn the deception. Supposing the 
undertaker, as was probable, had not known Barrett 


60 


CAPTAIN MANDEYILLE. 


in life, the secret was safe. One body as well as 
another would answer for the banker's. Precau- 
tions, of course, had to be taken that no friend of 
the dead man saw the remains. The man who ac- 
companied the physician to the morgue was a trusted 
assistant. 

With a great deal of caution the coffin was carried 
into the house. Not a soul was passing to observe 
the unaccustomed spectacle of two men, one of them 
having the garb and demeanor of, say, a prosperous 
merchant, transferring a funeral casket from an 
undertaker's wagon at dead of night into an aristo- 
cratic mansion. Dr. Jollier was provided with a key 
and the servants were not aroused. 

Once in the death-room the clothes which the 
banker had worn were quickly stripped off. The 
unknown was dressed in them and in his new attire 
his resemblance to the man he was intended to rep- 
resent was sufficiently close to deceive at a casual 
glance. The banker's corpse was then lifted into 
the empty box and was silently borne down the stair- 
way and into the street. Had there been a specta- 
tor to these proceedings he might have imagined 
himself the witness of a great crime. 

Dispatching his assistant to an undertaking estab- 
lishment on Fourteenth Street, which had the patron- 
age of the wealthy (there is as much fashion in the 
choice of undertakers as in selecting caterers), with 
orders for a suitable casket to be delivered immedi- 
ately at the Gramercy Park residence, the box to be 
sealed as soon as the body had been placed therein. 
Dr. Jollier drove off to his private dissecting room lo- 


A MORGUE SUBSTITUTION. 61 

cated near his office. Twice he was stopped by sus- 
picious policemen who did not understand why a 
well-dressed gentleman should be driving a dead 
wagon in the streets towards i o’clock in the morn- 
ing. The words Contagious Disease — Health De- 
partment,” acted as a magic formula to make the 
guardians of peace release the horse’s bridle and 
beat hasty retreat. 

It was a problem when the destination was reached 
how to transport the freighted coffin into the build- 
ing unaided. Dr. Jollier was about to ring up the 
janitor to assist him when a shabbily dressed man 
came reeling out of the darkness of a side street and 
approached the perplexed physician. The new- 
comer was evidently in a grievous state of intoxica- 
tion, but he might, notwithstanding, be of service. 

Here, my friend,” said Dr. Jollier, I’ll give you 
a dollar to help me into this house with this box.” 

The stranger balanced himself unsteadily on the 
edge of the pavement and responded : 

‘‘ I’m your-hic — man. Gimme th’ dust.” 

“ Not until we’re through work.” 

‘‘Money — hie — first. Funny business like — hie — 
this worth more’n a — hie — dollar !” 

“ Never mind what business it is,” sharply retorted 
the physician. “ Get hold of that end.” 

The intoxicated one, apparently subdued, did as 
he was bid. 

The dissecting room was on the first floor, in the 
rear, so that it would not be difficult for two able 
bodied men to carry thither a coffin with an ordin- 
ary sized occupant. But Dr. Jollier’s new assistant 


62 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


was SO much in his cups that he seemed almost in- 
capable of sustaining his share of the burden and 
threatened every moment to drop his end. If he 
had there would have been a crash loud enough to 
wake every person on the block. Luckily no such 
mishap occurred. When the coffin had been placed 
on a long marble topped table, Dr. Jollier paid his 
helper and the man shambled out through the dark- 
ened hallway, presumably in search of a liquor 
saloon. 

There was a stable behind the building and Dr, 
Jollier led the horse, drawing the vehicle which had 
been of such service, there, and saw that he was 
provided with a portion of hay and a pail of water 
in return for his labors. 

Then the physician returned to the room where 
lay the body of his friend. As soon as the first 
shock of grief had passed, it had been succeeded by 
those instincts which may be called professional. It 
was the doctor, the chief of a health bureau, not the 
man, the associate, the friend, that had evolved the 
method of discovering what manner of sickness had 
seized the banker. The doctor and chief had per- 
formed the preliminary steps of his self imposed 
task with great coolness, perhaps unconcern. It 
was all in the line of his duty and he was proud to 
do it well and faithfully. But now, as in that silent 
chamber of loathsome details, at an hour when mil- 
lions slept and few were stirring, when the day-time 
hum of the city had been succeeded by a deep still- 
ness, only interrupted by rarely passing jingling 
street cars or the distant rumble of the elevated 


A MORGUE SUBSTITUTION. 


63 


trains, he gazed by the flaring gas-light upon the 
cold, set face of the dead, he again felt the anguish 
of bereaved friendship. 

This did not last long, for the quick eye of the 
doctor saw that in the comparatively short time that 
had elapsed since death, the peculiar ruddiness of 
the face had increased greatly, and the dark blotches 
had grown until each was as large as a silver quar- 
ter. Truly it was a grave matter and no time to 
mourn. 

Dr. Jollier replaced the coffin lid and with much 
care washed his hands in a bichloride solution. 
Going to the office of his bureau, he sent a disinfect- 
ing wagon to the house in Gramercy Park, with in- 
structions to the men to quietly perform their work 
without frightening the servants or allowing them to 
know from where they came. The final thing done 
by the indefatigable physician was to leave orders 
for an immediate bacteriological culture from the 
body in his dissecting-room. 

When he reached his home the early rays of a new 
sun were beginning to warm the crisp morning air. 


64 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLB 


CHAPTER VII. 

MURDER !’' 

Two days after the events recounted in the last 
chapter, Arthur Leland visited the Contagious Dis- 
eases Bureau to seek the explanation of the prohib- 
itive message he had received. He ascended the few 
brown stone steps of the little two-story brick 
structure — once the home of a solid citizen — and, 
finding the heavy, green painted door unlocked, 
pushed his way in, and walked up the dusty wooden 
stairs to the office of the Bureau’s officials. A light 
moustached young man whose languid movements 
seemed to say he was well wearied with this sublu- 
nar life, the cause for which condition might be vari- 
ously assigned, sat on a rickety cane-bottomed chair 
and laboriously copied reports from slips of filled-in 
blanks into a big, leather-bound volume. At sight 
of the visitor, he remarked in a bored way : 

What can I do for you. Doctor ?” 

Infuse some energy into yourself,” was the men- 
tal response of Leland. What he did say was : 

‘‘ You can tell me whether the chief is in. Doc- 
tor ?” 

“ No, he isn’t,” said he of the light moustache, 
^‘but he will be in five minutes. I’m no doctor, 
though.” 

Neither am I,” said Leland, 


MtJRBER !’' 


65 


Well, you see,” said the other, most everybody 
who comes here is, and it’s safest to call ’em that.” 

Having thus explained, the bored young man re- 
turned to his transcribing. 

Brisk steps were heard on the stairs. The tall 
figure of Dr. Jollier filled the doorway. As he 
greeted Leland, the latter remarked that he looked 
much older than he had appeared a week before, 
when he last saw him. There were faint purplish 
rings under his keen eyes, his features were drawn, 
and indeed he suggested a man worn by much care 
and consequent sleeplessness. This, for Dr. Jollier, 
the impassive, the unmoved, the experienced. 
Strange ! The chief led Leland into his private 
office and carefully shut the door. 

“ Sit down,” he said, gravely. 

Leland did so, on a rusty leather covered sofa, 
while the physician remained standing. 

‘‘I must thank you,” said Dr. Jollier, for your 
kind regard of my request the other night. In 
return 1 owe you an explanation, but — ” 

“ Pardon me, Doctor, for interrupting you,” 
exclaimed Leland. “ I have no wish to know any- 
thing except what you may desire to tell me.” 

Dr. Jollier held up his hand with a sort of smile. 

‘‘No, no, you misunderstand the ‘but.’ I was 
about to say, ‘ but you may not want it.’ It isn’t 
very pleasant. And if I tell you I may want your 
advice, perhaps your aid.” 

“Both are at your service, Dr. Jollier,” earnestly 
responded the young man. 

“Then I will proceed. I will put what I have to 


66 


CAPTAIN MANDEYILLE. 


say in a supposititious form, which is a common 
method of imparting information in works of fiction, 
and a very good method, too.” 

Clasping his hands behind his back, Dr. Jollier 
walked slowly up and down the little room, and thus 
told his story, as though he were only talking to him- 
self : 

Supposing that in this city the Division of Con- 
tagious Diseases should be informed one morning 
that a case of suspected Asiatic cholera had been 
found in a poor quarter of the town. Supposing the 
proper investigations should be made and it should 
turn out to be a genuine case of cholera ; the victim 
a wretched beggar, who lived with a number of his 
kind. Previous to his attack he has been plying his 
profession in an aristocratic neighborhood. He had 
formerly been a sailor, but never liked to talk about 
his experience on the seas. His dying words re- 
ferred to a crime. Supposing the most energetic 
search should establish the fact that his was a per- 
fectly isolated case,^ there being no other cholera 
within 3,000 miles. Supposing all attempts to trace 
the origin of his disease proved futile. It was not 
communicated. 

^‘Now, the second proposition : Supposing that a 
few weeks after, the chief of this Division should call 
on a friend, a highly respected man, a well known 
financier. Supposing this friend should show the 
chief an anonymous letter, telling the recipient that 
he would not live but a few days, because of some 
of his ‘ earthly acts ’ and admonishing him to ‘re- 
member the Bride of Plymouth. * Supposing this 


MUKDER 67 

wealthy man should say he was totally at a loss to 
understand the allusions contained in the letter. 
He should say that his recollections only went back 
about a dozen years, when he discovered himself in 
a San Francisco hospital, recovering from brain 
fever. A bank book representing quite a sum of 
money to the credit of a name he since then bore 
was in his pocket when he was picked up in the 
street. With that money he educated himself — for 
he was almost like a child — and had enough left to 
start into business for himself. Finally he came to 
New York and became one of the foremost of Wall 
Street operators, married, had a boy. Sometimes he 
faintly remembered things which led him to con- 
clude he had before his illness sailed the ocean for 
an extended period. Supposing these faint glimpses 
into his past should reveal to him that the ‘ Bride 
of Plymouth ’ mentioned by his anonymous letter 
correspondent was a once familiar ship. Supposing 
the man had no enemies of importance to his knowl- 
edge. He, according to his memory, had wronged 
no one. Now, supposing that letter should come 
true. Within the time set, he should be stricken 
down while dining in a restaurant — to die in his 
house an hour afterwards. Supposing the chief of 
the Contagious Diseases Division should be sum- 
moned to the house, and, learning the circumstances 
and seeing the unnatural appearance of his dead 
friend, should have his suspicions aroused. Sup- 
posing he should arrange matters so that it should 
be given out that the man had expired from heart 
disease. Supposing he should, with the knowledge 


G8 CAPTAIN MANDEVILLTJ. 

of a very few persons, remove the corpse so that an 
examination could be made, another body taking the 
place of the financier’s for purpose of caution. Sup- 
posing there should be an excessive inflammation in 
the fleshy portion of the deceased’s neck, in the back, 
and the skin should show under the microscope a 
tiny puncture. Supposing a bacteriological culture 
should be made right from that spot, which should 
determine the man had died of a terrible and viru- 
lent disease, uncommon to human beings, so rare 
that not a dozen cases of it are recorded in medical 
histoiy — supposing all this were true, what would be 
your inference ?” 

Arthur Leland had been listening to the physician’s 
measured words with fascinated and excited interest. 
As the trend of the suppositions ” became more 
and more defined, he could hardly restrain himself 
from an eager interruption, though he would not 
have known exactly what to have said or asked. 
From point to point his imagination flashed and 
automatically filled in the gaps of tlie amazing 
recital. It seemed to him as if he were attending a 
great tragedic piece, with the real characters before 
him instead of the players ; he the sole audience ; 
and his emotions wrought up to correspond with the 
performance. When the words ceased and the 
question was directed to him, he answered quickly, 
almost without self volition : 

Murder!” 

That is my belief,” said Dr. Jollier, in a voice 
hardly above a whisper. 

For a few seconds Leland sat in silence, his 


MURDER 


69 


thoughts in a tangled whirl. Then he asked, hesitat- 
ingly : 

What was — the — disease 

It was,'* said Dr. Jollier, with a yet graver 
intonation, ‘‘what is usually known as anthrax, or 
malignant pustule. Animals, sheep particularly, are 
inclined to it. It is pathogenic to man, but, as I 
said, uncommon. It is caused by bacilli which 
multiply with inconceivable rapidity, and it proves 
fatal in a very short time. It is" capable of being 
disseminated from any point where it is introduced, 
unlike the cholera germs, which must reach the 
intestines to do any harm. In the few cases that 
have been observed, the human victims of anthrax 
have died without showing any objective symptoms. 
In this case, such an enormous quantity of the bacilli 
was introduced that they produced the effects which 
led to the discovery of the cause. The system made 
desperate attempts, by suffusing the head with blood, 
to counteract the foreign elements. A man of less 
sturdy physique and weaker vital organs would have 
succumbed much sooner.’* 

Sick with horror sat the young man at this revela- 
tion of the work of a mysterious fiend, whose de- 
moniacal resources exceeded the greatest reputed 
power of a mediaeval professor of black art. How 
secretly and silently was the frightful enemy intro- 
duced, with its victim so blissfully unconscious of 
harm that he would have laughed the thought away 
had it been suggested to him that he carried death 
within him ! An inconsequential prick in the neck, 
such as no one would notice in a moment of excite- 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


10 

merit, and the man was as surely doomed as if his 
throat was cut from ear to ear. And no less malevo- 
lent and terrible appeared the slaughter of that un- 
fortunate beggar. His draught of super poison had 
been given in meat and drink, probably in response 
to his own whining request for food. What was the 
connection between that wretchedest of beings and 
the wealthy and respected citizen, both of whom 
apparently succumbed to the same opponent ? Was 
there any, as Dr. Jollier intimated, or was the un- 
known murderer simply a scientific madman who 
scattered fearful death among the human race with 
haphazard hand ? Could it be that the emissaries of 
anarchy had discarded the dynamite bomb and the 
pistol for the more refined and secret weapons of 
disseminable disease ? Was this newest branch of 
science to be utilized for the destruction of society ? 

These rather wild surmises were checked by the 
practical words of the physician. 

As before, he seemed to be talking to himself 
rather than to his auditor, as he said : 

‘‘We must figure out how this thing was done and 
form some sort of a theory to work on. Many years 
ago the East Side mendicant, whose name we don’t 
know, and Barrett were shipmates. That seems 
pretty certain to me. There was a third man and 
in this problem he must be represented by X. 
The ship was the ‘ Bride of Plymouth.’ X received 
some real or fancied injury from the other two. 
When he gave up his seafaring life and separated 
from his companions, he took up the study of medi- 
cine, He became proficient in the art ; he particu- 


MURDER !*’ 


71 


larly devoted himself to laboratory work in bacilli. 
Revenge was still uppermost in his mind when he 
came to this city. Perhaps he studied here. Either 
his mind was unbalanced or his hatred partook of 
the bitter, undying nature characteristic of certain 
of the European races. He kept track of his former 
shipmates, intending to satisfy his revenge at the 
first opportunity. At least that is probably so of 
Barrett. It is unlikely he followed the career of the 
mendicant. But one day last month when X was 
alone in his house, between Fifth and Sixth Avenues 
and Fortieth and Fiftieth Streets, there was a ring at 
the basement bell. X answered it and saw standing 
before him one of the men who had injured him. 
The recognition was only one sided. X invited him 
inside and set a fine meal before him. A damnable 
idea of securing his long delayed purpose came to him 
and he hastened to put it into execution. He went 
to the room where he kept his cultures and taking 
the cholera tube inserted a piece of wire in the in- 
fected gelatine, or whatever medium it was. This 
wire, now swarming with myriads of cholera germs, 
he whipped about in a glass of milk, perhaps, and 
also rubbed the edges of the glass with it. The 
beggar unsuspectingly drank the milk — and that’s 
the whole story as regards him. Having been so 
successful the first time, X determined to apply a 
similar method to Barrett. It would be a more ex- 
quisite torture, he thought, to write Barrett of what 
was coming. He did not know of the brain fever 
incident and its consequent loss of memory ; other- 
wise he would not have taken the trouble. He filled 


72 


CAPTAIN MANDETILLE. 


a hypodermic syringe with a solution pregnant with 
the anthrax bacilli. He learned Barrett's habits ; 
that he was accustomed to walk home after business 
hours. He dogged Barrett's footsteps, and when he 
saw a good chance, perhaps in a crowd, he drew the 
syringe from his pocket and pricked his victim with 
the point, in the back of the neck. Just there be- 
cause it was most convenient. Barrett had promised 
me not to walk out alone for a while, but he evidently 
forgot. Such a slight prick attracted Barrett’s at- 
tention only for a moment ; then he dismissed it 
from his thoughts. That is my theory of the case. 
Now, how to proceed in catching X.” 

‘‘ Go to the medical colleges and hospitals and all 
who have access to the bacteriological departments 
connected with them,” suggested Leland, with almost 
a feeling of triumph at his insight. 

“ Useless !” said Dr. Jollier, decisively. 

“ Why ?” 

“ Because every third rate college and school in 
America has now more or less of a collection of 
bacilli. There are twenty laboratories, to my own 
knowledge, in New York. Then think of the innu- 
merable ones in Europe. Working from that end 
would be a more difficult enterprise than looking for 
the historical needle in the historical haystack.” 

“ Then what is to be done cried Leland. 

‘‘ As far as I see,” said the physician, ‘‘the point to 
commence from is the name of the ‘ Bride of Ply- 
mouth.’ We must find out where she sailed from, 
who were aboard her, and the entire circumstances. 
Probably, as her name indicates^ she was an Ameri- 


THE SARTOKIS HOtiSEHOLD. 


73 


can vessel, althougli there are, of course, other ‘ Ply- 
mouths ’ besides the New England one/’ 

Doctor, what a coincidence !” ejaculated Leland. 
‘‘ I must take the midnight train this very night for 
Plymouth, Massachusetts. There have been a lot of 
reports of sea serpents seen about there and not an 
hour since I got the assignment of going there to 
obtain a Sunday article for the Trumpet on those ser- 
pents. As I will remain for at least a day and a 
night I will have plenty of time to make the inquiries 
you wish.” 

‘‘Very good,” replied Dr. Jollier. “I know you 
require no instructions or hints as to finding out 
what there is to be learned. And I know you realize 
the importance of the information. Now, I’m sched- 
uled to be at a Board meeting soon ; so good-by, I 
hope you’ll have a pleasant journey, and bring back 
some news for me.” 

“ I hope so, too,” said Leland, as he shook hands 
with Dr. Jollier and left the office. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE SARTORIS HOUSEHOLD. 

Miss Maud Sartoris was undoubtedly a charming 
young woman, both in nature’s gifts, and in ac- 
quired attainments. Had she moved in that society 
which eats, drinks, dances and dresses, and is pre- 
sided over by some master genius, she would have 


74 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


won a great deal of attention and many admirers. 
But her circle was a trifle less extended than that, 
or, more, shall we say ? The only daughter of a 
widowed professor in a collegiate institution of 
learning, her education and training had been of a 
peculiarly favorable kind. At twenty her stock of 
wholesome knowledge was greater than most young 
ladies ever possess. Latin and Greek and geometry 
were no dark mysteries to her. French she could 
speak a little, likewise German ; she was a skillful 
player on the piano and took somewhat to water col- 
ors. Nor did she lack the feminine graces and was 
the very opposite of the unhandsome, spectacled type 
of a studious young woman. In figure she was 
slightly above the average height, her form such as 
a painter would have liked for a model. The con- 
tour of her face was delicate, yet bold in its way, 
and you instinctively felt that patrician blood flushed 
that soft cheek. The brightness of vigorous wom- 
anly health shone from the clear blue eyes. Soft, 
fluffy hair, in color a shade between brown and 
flaxen, crowned the head, and some of it strayed 
negligently on the upper part of the forehead. A 
Grecian knot confined the vagrant locks in the back. 

Just now she looked particularly fair as she rested 
bn a gayly embroidered divan in the bay window of 
I'ler father’s modest brownstone front residence in 
West Forty-third Street, near Fifth Avenue. She 
had been glancing through a volume of poems, but 
had laid the book down on her lap, with one rosy 
tipped finger keeping the place. A pensive expres- 
sion was on her face. 


THE SARTORIS HOUSEHOLD. 


75 


A martial appearing, white haired man, who was 
drawing on a pair of gloves preparatory to going out 
of doors and who carried in his hand a glossy silk 
hat, entered the room. He was Prof. Ralph Sartoris, 
occupant of the chair of Metaphysics and Logic in 
Columbia College, as near an exemplified definition 
of the Southern eulogy, ‘‘ A man and a gentleman, 
sir !’' as could be found. His face was smooth 
shaven, clean cut, vigorous, withal scholarly, and his 
snowy locks formed an agreeable frame for it. The 
eyes gave a rare impression of combined dignity and 
gentleness. People who saw him on the street com- 
pared him to a certain famous pulpit orator now 
one of the great majority. 

The girl sprang up from the divan on which she 
was reclining and exclaimed, as her father came in : 

Oh, papa, are you going to deliver a lecture this 
afternoon ?’* 

Yes, dear,’' answered the Professor. “ And what 
is my little girl reading ? Something very serious, I 
imagine.” 

‘‘Oh, no,” was the laughing reply. “Only 
Shelley’s Sensitive Plant. But I suppose that is 
serious. I was thinking, though.” 

“ I wish some of the young men who listen to my 
lectures would do a little of the last,” quoth Pro- 
fessor Sartoris, good humoredly. “ But what were 
you thinking of ? Perhaps our good young friend, 
Mr. Leland ?” 

A rosy blush and a downcast look answered the 
question more eloquently than words. 

Nq, no, my daughter,” continued Prof, Sartoris, 


re 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


kindly, patting her on the head. Don't think Fm 
making fun of you. I am proud that you are 
engaged to such an estimable person. Only I don't 
want him to take away my little girl too soon." 

Prof. Sartoris kissed his daughter gently on the 
forehead and she responded with an affectionate 
embrace. Then the old professor left the house. 

Shortly after his departure a servant brought a 
card in to the young woman, which caused her to 
flush with pleasure, and tell the maid to usher the 
visitor, who was Arthur Leland, in immediately. 
After the usual ever new and ever old greetings of 
lovers had been exchanged. Miss Maud, with an 
adorable pout, reproached Leland for his long 
absence of almost a week. 

Darling," he protested, earnestly, I can bring 
you affidavits to show you that it was not p-o-s-s-i- 
b-l-e for me to come before. Until a week ago I was 
rushing about Saratoga — Democratic State Conven- 
tion, you know — at such a rate that I had hardly 
time to sleep a wink. When I got back a lot more 
work came along, and really I snatched this half 
hour from the time I need to prepare for a quick trip 
Boston way to-night. So you musn’t blame me 
more than you can help." 

Well, Arthur," said his inamorata, I'll forgive 
you this once. But, remember, sir, you must write 
me nice, long letters when you can’t call." 

This was said in such a pretty tone of authority, 
that Arthur promptly kissed the speaker, and then 
liumbly promised to obey the mandate. 

‘‘ Write every day," commanded Miss Maud. 


TSU: SABTORIS HOUSEHOLD. 77 

‘‘Every day/' fervently repeated Leland. 

“ How busy you must be !” continued the young 
woman. “ Fm sure I wouldn’t like to be a reporter. 
And you can’t always write what you want to either, 
can you ?” 

“ Well,” laughed Leland, “ if the newspapers don’t 
always tell the whole truth they come dangerously 
near it. At the Saratoga convention, for instance, it 
was a scene of great confusion and disorder, and 
the delegates were at sea in trying to fix on a 
candidate. That was, of course, because the Trum- 
fet is a Republican organ. However, the news- 
papers don’t dare tamper with the facts to any extent. 
It’s only in the interpretation that they are partisan 
and sometimes designedly incorrect. The Demo- 
cratic sheets said, ‘ There was a healthy freedom 
about the convention, which showed it was no cut- 
and-dried machine affair.’ The truth is found 
between the two extremes.” 

“ It was always my idea,” said Miss Maud, thought- 
fully, “that opinions and interpretations, as you call 
them, were expressed only on the editorial page.” 

“ That is so far as English newspapers are con- 
cerned,” replied Leland. “ Over there a reporter 
isn’t expected to have much more intelligence than 
the man who sets up the types. He only gets the 
superficial dry facts and writes them in a mechanical 
way. Here it’s different. The reporter not only 
gathers the news, but puts the side forward which 
should be emphasized in his judgment. He selects 
and rejects from the mass of material he has col- 
lected and is able to say to a degree what he thinks. 


78 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


The editorial page in America is superseded to a 
large extent by the actual reports of events, from 
which the former is really constructed/* 

Then,’* said Miss Maud, “ the reporter is both 
reporter and editor, whereas the editor is only 
editor ?” 

It is something like that,” admitted Leland. 

The English newspapers at least do not contain 
the sensations of the American ones, do they ?’* 
Perhaps not.” 

“ I suppose you intend to secure a sensation ^out 
Boston way,’ too.” 

‘‘ That depends on how I find things,” answered 
Leland, smiling. “ Plymouth sea serpents are what 
I’m after. If there is much corroborative testimony 
it will have to be a sensation. If, as I expect, 
every salt tells a different story, and embroiders 
much, there will be a chance for a humorous account. 
You see the advantage of the American style of 
journalism in this case — it makes a story either 
way.” 

The conversation fell back into the former strain 
of dear and airy nothings ” of so much moment to 
devoted lovers, and so difficult to shift upon cold 
paper. It would sound rather foolish, any way, if it 
were set down. An ancient adage says that some 
things are to be spoken ; others to be written. 

Finally Leland tore himself away, with a good 
deal of an effort, and was surprised to find, on con- 
sulting his timepiece, that he had spent almost an 
hour with his lady. 

Once on the street his light heartedness rapidly 


THE SAETORIS flOUSEHOU). 


79 


oozed away and his thoughts reverted to the awful 
disclosures of Dr. Jollier. He hastened down Fifth 
Avenue and passed hundreds of well dressed men 
and women — gay promenaders on that gay thorough- 
fare of the polite — laughing and chatting in the 
October sunshine, his own heart gloomy and finding 
no echo for the general gladness. He canvassed 
from every point of view the known facts, and then 
the solution furnished by the physician for the hor- 
rid events. When he had mentally gone over the 
ground once he repeated it and kept repeating it 
with infinite changes of the premises, but without 
obtaining very satisfactory results. So engrossed 
was he with his somber reflections that before he 
was aware he had walked down to Madison Square. 
At the intersection of Broadway he boarded a cable 
car and was soon whirled down to Fourth Street, 
from where he walked across to his apartments on 
the north side of Washington Square, and facing the 
great Memorial Arch. 

His lodgings consisted of a suite of three rooms 
on the second floor of a three story brick house, its 
front nearly hidden by a luxuriant growth of ivy, in 
summer the habitation of innumerable twittering 
sparrows. In former years, a man of wealth had 
occupied the house, as was shown by the massive oak 
and mahogany furniture, the wide mosaic laid hall, 
and the spacious staircases. Leland’s study looked 
out on the Square and was a commodious apartment 
furnished with a filled book case, a convenient writ- 
ing desk, and decorated with knick-knacks and 
trophies of various kinds. A tennis racquet hung 


So CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 

above the marble mantelpiece, which boasted a 
French cuckoo clock, flanked on either side by pho- 
tographs and press badges of colored silks. A police- 
man^s night stick, a rifle on a pair of antlers, and 
numerous long pipes of foreign makes were some of 
the other unique and commonplace adornments of 
the walls. There was a comfortable divan and three 
or four chairs of the heavily padded, old-fashioned 
sort. The library went the gamut from Homer’s 
Iliad and Montaigne’s Essays to the latest paper cov- 
ered novel and the Ar77ty arid Navy Register, The 
size of the volumes varied as much as did the con- 
tents, from the most gigantic of books to tiny pocket 
editions. 

Leland seated himself at his desk and resolutely 
banishing for the time the thoughts which haunted 
his mind set to work on an article he intended to 
finish before leaving town. He scratched away 
steadily with his pen hour after hour, until the 
mechanical bird on the mantel popped out of its re- 
treat and said Cuckoo !” nine times. Then, his 
work done, he gathered up the leaves of his manu- 
script from the floor, arranged them in tlieir proper 
order, placed them in a drawer, locked the desk, and 
went out to dine at a French table d’hote in South 
Fifth Avenue. Beaman, the artist, Jones, the medi- 
cal expert (who was always called either by the 
prosecution or the defense in strange murder cases), 
Kenny, the bright young sculptor, Mindel, quite a 
successful writer of verse, and Merrill, the misan- 
thropic, but humorous editor, were some of the host 
of Bohemian spirits gathered about the circular 


ENTRY IN A DIARY. 


81 


tables of the resort. They had long since finished 
eating, and tlie restaurant at this hour resembled a 
historic English coffee house, where the wits of the 
neighborhood assembled of evenings to discuss the 
topics of the day, and all other subjects, and to ex- 
change jests over their ale or wine. Leland was 
received with boisterous hilarity by his friends and 
had hard work getting away when he had dined. He 
managed to do so, however, and retiring to his 
rooms, quickly packed a small Gladstone bag for his 
journey. 

Fifteen minutes before midnight found him at the 
Grand Central Depot purchasing a ticket, and when 
the Boston midnight express pulled out of the sta- 
tion he was climbing into a Pullman berth for a 
seven hours' sleep, 


CHAPTER IX. 

ENTRY IN A DIARY. 

When the Express entered its Boston terminus 
and discharged its passengers, Leland was informed 
by the ticket agent that there was no train to Ply- 
mouth for an hour ; so he decided to spend the in- 
terval in a walk about the cultured Hub of the uni- 
verse, now just arising from its slumber. Leaving 
his satchel with the accommodating baggage-master, 
he started up Causeway Street, and pretty soon 


82 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


spied a neat looking restaurant, which bore this 
characteristic legend on its front : 


Quick and Economical Lunch, 
Compatible with Excellence, 
Served Here. Traveller, Tarry ! 


The traveller did tarry, according to the injunc- 
tion, long enough to invest in a cup of prime coffee, 
eggs, and rolls. Then he continued his walk. 
There was a hearty keenness to the air, which had a 
freshening and invigorating effect. The pedestrians, 
beyond a few workmen hurrying to their labors, 
were not to be seen ; the vehicles on the street were 
mostly trucks ; occasionally a horse car languidly 
jingled past. Outside of shops merry whistling 
youths were sweeping off the pavement. Boston 
was still sleepy, and the contrast between her dozy 
condition and New York at the same hour, impressed 
itself upon Leland. In the latter city the full roar of 
day had already set in. 

Wandering over to a more residential section of 
the town, the quietness was even greater, the solemn, 
discreet looking houses gazing down on almost de- 
serted streets. A policeman with an air that seemed 
to say, Hush ! you will awaken somebody,*' was 
standing on a corner. Leland addressed himself to 
the bluecoat on the subject of the excessive solitude. 
The officer replied, ‘‘ Yes, sir,” and quoted ; 


ENTRr IN -A DIARY* 


83 


** * Dear God, the very houses seem asleep, 

And all — and all — * 

' That mighty heart is lying still !' " 

prompted Leland, thoroughly amused. Perhaps you 
have read ^ The Dynamiter !’ 

The policeman blushingly admitted that he had, 
and Leland passed on. 

Without further adventures the young man re- 
turned to the railroad station and arrived in the his- 
toric tovrn of Plymouth while the day was still 
young. The grizzled, nasal-voiced proprietor of the 
Pilgrim House, thinking that the visitor was a sight- 
seer, offered to provide him with a guide to the 

p’ints of interest.” 

‘‘Ye would like to see the Rock afore anything 
else, I suppose, sir,” said he. 

“ What Rock ?” wickedly responded the new 
guest. 

“ Oh, Lor', sir, did ye never hear of the Rock the 
Pilgrim Fathers landed on !” ejaculated the old man 
with an unutterable expression of pain and aston- 
ishment. 

“ No,” said Leland, soberly. “ But I have heard,” 
he added, “ of the rock on which the Pilgrim Fathers 
landed.” 

The hotel keeper looked somewhat relieved, but 
eyed Leland distrustfully. 

“ I came here to write a piece about the sea ser- 
pents around here,” finally remarked the young man, 
“The New York Trumpet stn\. me.” 

Ah, did you, sir ?” responded the boniface, 


84 


CAPTAIN MANDEYILLE. 


brightening up. Well, I took you for a New York 
editor when I first laid eyes on ye, Yes, everybody 
says I can tell a man by his looks right well. A New 
York editor, that’s what I thought right away. A 
great city. New York, sir. I know it well. Some 
fine houses on Fourteenth Street, sir !” 

The proprietor of the Pilgrim House rubbed his 
hands together pleasantly as he said this. 

Wlien did you visit New York inquired the 
other, curiously. 

The last time — ahem ! — I think was in ’59 !” was 
the uncomfortable response. 

On the subject of sea serpents the hotel keeper 
recovered his composure and kept Leland’s notebook 
employed with weird tales and instances for up- 
wards of two hours. He also directed Leland to 
various fishermen who had encountered the monster 
or monsters. Each one of these worthies added to 
the young man’s stock of information until he had 
obtained enough facts for a half dozen articles. 
Rather late in the afternoon he returned to the hotel 
and got a fresh start from mine host in regard to the 
errand of Dr. Jollier. The hotel keeper remem- 
bered a little about the “ Bride of Plymouth ” and 
had heard sometliing of her disappearance, but he 
recommended Capt. Jason Rogers as a complete 
fount of knowledge respecting her. 

Captain Rogers held the position of oracle and 
historian, and corresponded to the oldest inhabit- 
ant ” of interior villages. He had not followed the 
sea for more than a quarter century, and was a typi- 
cal old salt, bronzed and shaggy haired. Pie lived in 


ENTRY IN A DIARY. 


85 


a little frame house on a bluff that overlooked the 
restless ocean, with a spinster sister, the only rela- 
tive he had left in the world. The income from a 
modest sum of money saved up by the captain in his 
voyaging days supported the couple. 

Captain Rogers was sitting in a stiff backed chair, 
tilted on its rear legs, with his feet on the railing of 
the miniature piazza in front of his home, when 
Leland approached. He was smoking an ancient 
and jet black meerschaum with a long stem, and had 
a look of philosophic contentment on his face. 

“ This is Captain Rogers ?” inquired Leland, re- 
spectfully addressing the old salt. 

The captain withdrew the stem of his meerschaum 
from his mouth, and roared, hoarsely : 

That’s me !” 

Well, Captain,” said the young man, ‘‘my name 
is Arthur Leland, and I’m from New York. I am 
told that you are the best informed man in Plymouth 
and know everything that’s happened here for years 
back.” 

“Right, my lad! You’re right!” chuckled the 
sailor, evidently much gratified. “ I am the best 
in-formed, as you say. There’s Sol Adams, who 
thinks he’s got a longer mem’ry than I, but he ain’t 
got a log. There’s where I sail all around his bark. 
When his mem’ry desarts him, he’s done for. When 
mine desarts me, I look at my log.” 

“I understand. Captain,” said Leland. “You 
keep a log book, just as if you were still sailing the 
seas.’' 

, “ Ay, that’s what I do ! And the wind and the 


86 


CAPT^m MANDEVILLE. 


weather for every day you'll find there for more not 
twenty year back. 

By the way, Captain Rogers," said the visitor, 
undoing a paper covered package he had under his 
arm, ‘‘ I happened to drop in to Silas Clark's place 
in town, and he showed me some Jamaica rum that 
he said was first-class, I told him I was going to 
call on you and he asked me to fetch you a bottle of 
it with his best compliments. Here it is." 

The old sailor’s eye glistened as he noted the 
generous proportions of the gayly labeled bottle, the 
rich hued contents of which gurgled musically when 
it was handed to him. 

“Thankee, my lad !" he exclaimed, in his voice so 
suggestive of a deep throated fog horn. “ Have 
some of this medicine with me Marie ! Hollo, 
Marie !" 

If Leland had expected a young and beauteous 
maiden to answer the bellowed call, he was dis- 
appointed. “ Marie " proved to be a tall, thin fea- 
tured, wiry looking woman of perhaps 45. She was 
Jason’s spinster sister. In response to her brother's 
request, she opened the liquor, brought glasses, and 
also produced the captain's log. Then she retired 
into the house, without saying a word. She was 
evidently accustomed to the captain’s having strange 
guests. 

After a mutually pledged potation, Leland asked 
Capt. Rogers if he remembered the “ Bride of 
Plymouth." 

“ Remember her ! Why, my lad, I sailed on her ! 
She was built right in this here town more nor thirty 


87 


i:ntry in a diary. 

years ago. I made two trips as fust mate from here 
to Rio on her. Ay, she was a noble ship.'' 

Repressing his elation at this promising answer, 
Leland continued : 

I believe she never came back from her last 
voyage. When was that ?" 

The Captain turned over the leaves of the dog- 
eared and greasy covered log-book, until he came to 
an entry which he hoarsely read, thus : 

** 17th Oct. 1869. — Wind brisk, S. S. E. ; cloudy ; 
looks like a gale. This day ship ^ Bride of Ply- 
mouth,' Captain Job Higgins, weighed for Liverpool, 
with a load of cod and merchandise, ist mate, Tobias 
Jenkins ; 2nd mate, Samuel Blackstone ; 3rd mate. 
Geo. Evans ; Bo's'n, Larry Powers ; Carp'nter, J. 
Hicks. Able seamen, Joseph Burns, R. Works, Ed. 
Watrous, R. Johnson, Dan'l Craven, H'ry Marten, W. 
Marshall, Tim Rollins, Q. Emmett, Levi Morton, G. 
O’Reilly, E. Squires, D. Pearsall, Benj, Somers. 
Steward, John Hines. Boy, Ezra Jones. 20th Jan. 
1880. — Add to above. ^ Bride of Plymouth ' lost with 
all hands on voyage to Melbourne.'* 

“ All lost, were they ?" asked Leland, with as- 
sumed calmness. 

Every mother's son went to Davy Jones, and the 
‘ Bride ' was never seen agin. — Wait !" cried Captain 
Rogers, pouring out another drink, now, come to 
think on it. Captain Higgins warn’t lost because he 
didn't sail on the last trip. The ‘ Bride ' was a-char- 
tered by some one in Liverpool and another Cap'u 
was set aboard." 


88 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


‘‘ Where is Job Higgins now T* 

Dead/' replied tlie old mariner, ^‘dead. So's his 
widdy. Died in that yellow house you went by a 
cable's length from here." 

Do you know what cargo the ‘Bride of Ply- 
mouth ' had when she sailed for Melbourne ?" said 
Leland. 

At this question, Captain Rogers looked cautiously 
about, as if fearing an eavesdropper, then placed a 
horny hand to one side of his mouth, and whispered 
in somewhat louder than an ordinary person's con- 
versational tone : 

“ She was sup-posed to have a cargo o* nails. But 
I hev' heard that she carried what was wuth more 
nor all the nails you could put in three vessels. 
Rumor, rumor, mind ye, my lad, said 'twas gold. 
Several thousand pounds of English money, and the 
arithm'tic book says a pound is wuth four dollars 
and eighty-five cents." 

A great light dawned upon the interrogator's mind 
and prompted him to ask the next question : 

“ Did you ever hear of there being a mutiny on 
the Bride ?’ " 

“ Mutiny ! No ! Ha ! Ha !" exploded Captain 
Rogers, in cachinnatory spasms. “ My lad, a Ply- 
mouth crew never mutinies. The word ain’t in the 
wocabulary for 'em. In all my forty years on the 
seal never knew a Plymouth sailor to mutiny. The 
mutineerin' cuss is ginerally a foreigner." 

The unbounded faith of Captain Rogers in the 
Plymouth seamen did not produce a very strong 
effect on his questioner. Leland had lived long 


ENTRY IN A DIARY, 


89 


enough in the age of gold to understand the ruling 
passion of man everywhere, whether high or low his 
condition. 

I should like to copy that entry,” said Leland 
after ascertaining that he had sounded the extent of 
the old Captain’s knowledge. 

You may copy the whole log if it’s of any benefit 
to ye, my lad,” heartily responded the other. Ye’ll 
find there’s many a cur’us thing in it. Here, 6th 
June 1871, clear, no wind ; Elias Parker, Cap’n of the 
‘ Nimble Jane,’ reports he sighted the ‘ Flying 
Dutchman ’ just off Cape Agulhas. That’s the last 
time that bark of Satan was ever seen. Cap’n Parker 
told me himself, and I just put it down. The ^Nim- 
ble Jane’ was wrecked and the Cap’n was the only 
man that got off alive. He died here a mpnth arter 
his arrival.” 

No doubt it’s an interesting log,” said the visitor, 
but I guess I won’t take it all down now. I see, 
by the way, that the ‘ Bride ’ sailed with only a crew 
of twenty men, all told.” 

“ Right, my lad,” replied Captain Rogers. She 
was short-handed. But every one of the twenty was 
as good as two common sailors. When I sailed her 
to Maracaibo, I did it with sixteen men. There’s 
seamanship for ye !” 

Leland assented that it was, and hastily trans- 
scribed in his notebook the important entry relating 
to the lost ship. Then, thanking Captain Rogers, 
and despite his pressing invitation to eat the evening 
meal with him, the young man started to return to 
the Pilgrim House. 


90 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


His way led alorrg an eminence overlooking the 
sea, and darkness was just coming down. The surf 
below was rhythmically dashing '^against the gran- 
ite rocks ; it was that dividing hour between day 
and night which is the most solemn of the twenty- 
four — under Nature’s dome and amongst her envir- 
onments. In harmony with the scene and time were 
Leland’s thoughts. He derived a sort of gloomy sat- 
isfaction from the progress he had made in tracing 
the beginnings of the tragic occurrences which had 
lately taken place. He also experienced a taste of 
the fierce ardor of the professional pursuer of crim- 
inals and unraveller of mysteries. At the same time 
he was filled with a sense of the mountain-high dif- 
ficulties which lay in the path of a successful run- 
ning to earth of the scientific demon. What chance, 
with the slight data at hand, of finding after the 
lapse of years a single member of the Bride of Ply- 
mouth’s ” crew, whose very interests of life perhaps, 
would not allow him to reveal his identity? Doubt- 
less some were dead and the rest scattered over the 
broad world, existing on the proceeds of their crime ; 
for the possibility of the ship’s having a cargo of gold 
gave rise to this new supposition in the young man’s 
mind. 

Leland had thought to spend the night in the an- 
cient town, but he wished to communicate to Dr. 
Jollier as soon as possible what he had learned. 
Therefore he took an early evening train back to 
Boston, returning on the same express to New York 
by which he had left the metropolis, 


DEATH OF SEROEAHT FHILLIPI0, 


91 


CHAPTER X. 

DEATH OF SERGEANT PHILLIPS. 

That region in New York devoted to gayety and 
more or less gilded vice is known as the Tenderloin 
district. It is loosely bounded by Seventh and 
Fourth Avenues, and Fourteenth and Forty-second 
Streets. Within these limits are included the major- 
ity of the theatres, hotels and fashionable clubs. 
Gambling houses and resorts of evil name flourish as 
indispensable auxiliaries. A very few streets could 
probably be found in these confines not patrolled by 
the Miss Anonymas. Broadway and Sixth Avenue, 
and the blocks between the two thoroughfares, as 
well as certain squares between Sixth and Seventh 
Avenues, are most characteristic of this brilliant and 
somewhat wicked locality. Tradition relates that 
the name of Tenderloin was derived from a famous 
club so called, the chief distinction of which lay in 
its fine cookery of choice steaks. 

Among the various advantageous posts from 
which one may observe the outward life and man- 
ners of the Tenderloin is the northeast corner of 
Sixth Avenue and Thirtieth Street. Of course, this 
refers to the night time. There is only one view of 
the Tenderloin, and that is nocturnal. In the day it 
is not much different from any other semi-residential 
section. 

The corner of which we speak is occupied by an 


92 


CAPTAIN MANDEVlLLN. 


expensively fitted saloon, though rather small in size 
yet compensating for the lack in abundance of mir- 
rors, plate glass and glittering lights. In the street 
just in front are the dark and grimy iron pillars 
which support the elevated railway. Every few 
minutes a train rattles and rumbles past with noise 
enough for a fast express crossing a bridge. Look- 
ing down Thirtieth Street, rather poorly illuminated, 
three dull-twinkling green lights proclaim the loca- 
tion of the police station. On the corner below us 
stands a much placarded ‘‘ museum/* where the vul- 
gar and intoxicated are shown real and imaginary 
wonders for the admission price of ten cents. Up 
and down the Sixth Avenue pavement are promenad- 
ing beardless youths, gray-haired men, some sober 
and some not, well dressed and ill dressed men, 
shuffling mendicants, brisk stepping persons of mys- 
terious callings, flashy looking women and girls of 
all ages and conditions, a variegated and heterogene- 
ous throng. Plenty of cabs are drawn up to the 
curbstones all about, and the drivers are bantering 
each other when not soliciting custom from the men 
and women who emerge from a fast cafe a door 
above our post. Looking towards Broadway, the 
endless procession appears of a slightly higher grade. 
It is better attired, wears more jewelry, and is more 
expensive. Clang 1 clang ! and a cable car, daz- 
zlingly lighted, rushes by, followed perhaps by a 
carriage or two. 

But we have not noticed our neighbors on the cor- 
ner. Besides a small, waxy faced fellow who is loung- 
ing against the brass railing outside the saloon, known 


DEATH OE SERGEANT PHILLIPS. 


93 


to his friends and to the police as an all-round thief 
and an opium fiend, an intoxicated old hag arguing 
with a cab driver, two hard-faced men carrying on a 
conversation in low tones, there is a party of four 
persons standing there. One is a compactly built 
man of composed and prepossessing features, with a 
jet black, curly moustache and hair of the same color. 
His derby hat is thrust back on his head, which 
lends to him an air of graceful negligence. His 
hands are in the pockets of his light overcoat, for 
this is October and the nights are cold. The young 
man next to him is of less than ordinary stature, 
wearing a tall silk hat and dressed wholly in black, 
even to his well fitting kid gloves. His face is 
smooth shaven. Member No. 3 of this group is 
twinkling eyed, of light complexion, with a small, 
straw colored moustache. He sports gold rimmed 
pincez nez glasses, and there is something studious 
in his look despite the impression of his eyes. The 
last man of the party is no other than Arthur Leland 
who returned from his New England trip early in 
the afternoon, and was immediately assigned to take 
care of the Tenderloin news for the Trumpet \\\2X 
evening. He had hardly time to change his traveling 
dress before he joined his confreres ; the other three 
young men are also reporters. 

Not much going on to-night, boys,’’ remarked he 
of the dark hair, who was considered as the leader of 
the Tenderloin newspaper men, and held the posi- 
tion of president of their association, the Anonymous 
Club. 

‘‘No^ Hartley ; I don’t know when it’s been so dull 


94 


CAPTAIN MANDETILLE. 


on a Thursday evening/’ responded the young man 
whose fad it was to dress in mourning. Manager 
Sulkins told me there might be a good theatrical 
story, but I haven’t seen it yet. Nothing from the 
hotels, either.” 

Well,” said the gentleman with the eye-glasses, 
you know it’s generally a case of calm before a 
storm up here. I expect we may be hustling around 
fit to break our necks within the next hour. By-the- 
way, that old cat Mme. La Salle tried to work off a 
stale tale on me to-night. Wanted a column story 
and a picture, though of course she didn’t say so. I 
saw her in her dressing-room before the second act 
of ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ When she told it to me she 
made me swear by ten thousand saints I wouldn’t 
have a line printed. Story had ‘ leaked out,’ and she 
wished to ‘ forestall the publication !’ ” 

Queer,” commented Hartley Thomas, musingly, 
“ how these actresses work and lie for a few lines in 
a newspaper. The disease might be called Notorie- 
tiana.” 

A very erect, pink and white complexioned young 
man, who was dressed with extreme neatness and 
wore a prodigious chrysanthemum on his coat lapel, 
sauntered up to the group of reporters. 

“ Ah,” exclaimed Leland, with mock stateliness, 
“ here is our distinguished co-laborer, the exquisite 
Mr. Donovan. Salute Mr. Donovan,” 

The newcomer nonchalantly greeted the others. 

“ Where have you been, old man ? Haven’t seen 
you since yesterday,” remarked Cooper, the young 
man in mourning clothes and high hat. 


DEATH OF SERGEANT PHILLIPS. 


95 


Nowhere in particular,” coolly responded Mr. 
Donovan, drawing a cigar from his vest pocket and 
clipping the end with an ivory handled knife. New 
series of living pictures up the Avenue ; also the 
danse du ventre.” 

^^Fake dance, isn't it?” said Thomas. 

I should ejaculate,” interposed the reporter with 
eye-glasses. Zarah, the Bagdad dancer — born in 
Cherry Hill.” 

Sa}^, fellows, before I saw you who do you think 
I came across ?” propounded the new arrival. 

Jim the Penman ?” 

^^No.” 

‘‘Cooper's city editor with a jag on ?” 

“ No.” 

“ Who, then ?” 

“Diamond Mary,” said Donovan. “She had 
about a thousand dollars' worth of shiners on her, or 
I'm no judge. Just returned from Chicago, where 
she said she’d found a soft mark ; some rich old 
duffer. She's living with him steady now and came 
back here for a few days because she was home- 
sick.” 

“ I pity her victim,” remarked he of the eye- 
glasses, Foster, by name. “She'll get all he has and 
then leave him. It’s her ambition to marry a Euro- 
pean prince — will have nothing less. That’s rich — 
the Princess Mary, alias Diamond Mary, alias the 
Duchess, formerly of the Tenderloin !” 

“And she was sent up to the Island for ten days 
not two months ago,” quoth Hartley Thomas. “To 


96 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


change the subject, I’ve noticed Sergeant Phillips 
looking out of sorts lately — seems almost sick.” 

“ I should think he would be,” remarked Donovan, 
carelessly, “ when lie is in danger of being broken 
for those flim-flam payments regarding bail bonds.” 

“ What ! Sergeant Phillips a blackmailer !” ejacu- 
lated Leland in surprise. “ Why, I thought if there 
was one honest man on the force it was he. I haven’t 
read the papers carefully for tvvo or three days and 
so I haven t seen anything about it. There was 
something printed, of course ?” 

“Oh, yes,” said Thomas, “all the sheets had half 
column stories, Monday I think it was. His trial is 
up for to-morrow. The madame of a house got sore 
on him and complained to the Police Board. She’s 
out of the business now, and so she isn’t afraid.” 

“As to Phillips being honest,” chimed in Foster, 

I ve )'et to find in this town a policeman above the 
rank of patrolman who isn’t a damned villain.” 

“You’re a lop-eyed cynic, Foster,” said Leland, 
pleasantly. 

The theatres and other places of amusement were 
just beginning to discharge their patrons, as could 
be seen from the increased stream of people on 
Broadway. Some one suggested going to the station 
house, and the party of reporters leisurely crossed 
the street and walked towards the green lights. 

From the direction of Seventh Avenue there sud- 
denly burst forth a small army of street Arabs, white 
and black, with not a few older persons among them. 
The army halted before the police station and its 
component meinbers swarmed about the steps, 


DEATH OE SERGEANT PHILLIPS. 


97 


chattered, and looked back in the direction whence 
they came. These self-appointed heralds of arrests 
gave a straggling cheer when two officers in plain 
clothes appeared around the corner, each with a 
young woman on his arm. Before the detectives 
reached the station the reporters had entered it aHd 
had stationed themselves two at each side of the rail 
fronting the sergeant’s desk, so that they might bet- 
ter take note of the prisoners. 

Sergeant Phillips was a stout, slow moving, stern 
sort of man, his age close to fifty years. What hair 
remained on his head was gray and he likewise had 
a sparse gray moustache. He was rather taciturn 
in manner and there was nothing free and easy 
about him, either in his relations with his superior 
officers or his subordinates. As he sat behind his 
desk with bent head slowly turning over the pages 
of the police blotter, he indeed appeared ill. There 
was a furitive look in his generally impassive gray 
eyes and his cheeks were very pale. 

The policemen brought in the prisoners and 
ranged them against the railing. The first was a 
loudly dressed, weather beaten creature with a reck- 
less air. She gazed about her as on familiar scenes 
and smiled impudently at the reporters. The other 
was a young girl and very plainly this was her first 
arrest. She sobbed violently. 

The sergeant looked up mechanically and said : 

Both soliciting ?” 

The officers nodded. 

“ What do you call yourself ?** 


98 


CAPTAIN MANDEYILLE. 


The flashily dressed young woman answered, with 
a little laugh. 

“ Oh, most anything ! Julie Winters will do,” 

How old are you, Julie ?” 

She tittered and said eighteen. The sergeant put 
it down 25.” 

Where do you live ?” 

Thirty-six West — er — no. Tve forgotten, now*” 

‘‘ Where were you born ?” 

‘‘ Iceland,” replied the prisoner, with a giggle. 

Your business ?” 

‘‘ Sir ! How dare you ! I’m a cook. Can’t you 
tell it by my looks ?” 

The perfunctory business over, the matron came 
forward and led the brazen creature to a cell. 

It was the turn of the other young woman, the 
novice, to answer the same questions. She still wept 
and clung feverishly to the arm of her captor. 

Stop crying and give me your name,” said the 
sergeant, sternly. 

Hardly had these words left the policeman’s lips 
than a horrible convulsion suddenly dashed all mean- 
ing out of his face. His eyes seemed to bulge from 
his head. Terror leaped from them. He staggered 
to his feet, groaned, then emitted an indescribably 
fearful shriek, and fell heavily backward. 

The station house was still as a grave. 

For a second after the startling and awful occur- 
rence no one moved. Arthur Leland, the first to re- 
cover himself, leaped over the railing. Sergeant 
Phillips in his fall had struck his head against the 
cabinet in which were kept the station records. 


DEATH OF SERGEANT PHILLIPS. 


99 


Blood was flowing freely from the wound. His up- 
turned face, yet stamped with terror, was white as 
chalk. He did not seem to breathe and lay as 
motionless as a carved statue. Policemen and re- 
porters crowded around. 

“Send for an ambulance, somebody,'’ cried Le- 
land. 

One of the officers rushed to the telephone a few 
feet away and hastily called up the New York 
Hospital. 

Leland unloosed the sergeant's coat and took off 
the collar which confined his neck. While doing 
this a slip of paper projecting from an envelope fell 
from an inside pocket. The young man caught a 
glimpse of the concluding words. Without stopping 
to think he palmed the envelope with the skill of a 
magician and transferred it to his own pocket. It 
was done so cleverly that not one of those looking 
over his shoulder saw the act. 

The stricken man was carried into the captain's 
room and was laid on a sofa. The ambulance 
surgeon came bustling in. He looked dubiously at 
the marble like face, then quickly applied a bottle of 
strong ammonia to the man's nose, chafed his hands, 
placed his ear over the sergeant's heart. Not a 
flutter of an eyelid or a movement of a muscle was 
there. The eyes were fixed wide open. 

Sergeant Phillips was dead I 

The surgeon thought heart disease was the cause, 
but he was not certain. An officer went out to find a 
coroner. 

It was almost half past eleven o’clock and the re- 


100 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


porters silently hurried off to write up the sudden 
tragedy. 

On the way to the Anonymous Club, Hartley 
Thomas remarked : 

“ By George ! Leland acted just as if he were a 
doctor by trade. But I notice he’s turned almost as 
white cUi poor old Phillips.” 

‘‘ It’s nothing,” replied the young man, control- 
ling himself. 

‘‘ God, what a face and what a terrible cry !” said 
Cooper, shuddering. That’ll haunt my dreams for 
some nights to come. I’ll bet.” 

It was a damned nasty business,” assented Don- 
ovan. I could stand his look but the yell broke 
me all up. I suppose we’ll all have front page stories 
now. Mystery — charges against him — did he die a 
natural death ? — and so on. Any one got his rec- 
ord ?” 

I have,” said Cooper ; ^‘time of service and all.” 

‘^Ail right, then. I guess we won’t have any 
trouble getting this in the first edition,” 

An hour later the types in a dozen newspaper 
offices in Printing House Square were nimbly spell- 
ing out the story of Sergeant Phillips’s dekth. 


DK. JOLLIER AND LELAND. 


101 


CHAPTER XI. 

DR. JOLLIER AND LELAND. 

Two o’clock A. M. had just struck when the electric 
bell in Dr. Samuel Jollier’s Waverly Place residence 
commenced to ring violently, as if betokening an 
impatient visitor. Smith, the butler and general 
factotum of the kitchen, was awakened by the noisy 
summons, but waited for awhile to see if the ill-timed 
caller would not depart. No, he was stubborn and 
rang again. Using his favorite adjuration of ‘‘ Hell- 
damme !” Smith donned a pair of trousers and com- 
pleted his costume with an old silk hat. In this 
emergency dress he went to the door and opened it 
about an inch. 

‘‘ Here, man, what’s the matter with you ? Open 
that door !” said the person outside. 

What do you want ?” said Smith, wondering 
whether the peremptory voice belonged to a police- 
man. 

“ That’s none of your never mind. Tell Dr, 

Jollier, Mr. Leland must see him immediately.” 

‘‘ Oh, sir,” protested the servant, with chattering 
teeth, I never woke up master at this ungodly hour 
before.” 

‘‘ Then you can do it for the first time now. And 
if you’ll hurry up I may have an odd quarter in my 
pocket for you.” 

Equally influenced by the commanding manner of 


102 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


the visitor and the promise of reward, Smith closed 
the portal just for precaution and ascended the stairs 
to his master's bedroom. Dr. Jollier was sound 
asleep, but, being awakened, at the mention of the 
visitor's name, he ordered the servant to bring Le- 
land up at once. He was attired in a thick woolen 
dressing-gown when the young man entered. 

“ Doctor,’* said Leland, ‘‘ I won’t make any excuse 
for rousing you up, because it is done on a matter 
of extreme importance.” 

Is it something connected with our conversation 
at Headquarters ?” 

Yes.” 

“ I feared as much.” 

Leland thrust his hand into the pocket where he 
kept his papers and drew forth an envelope. He 
gave it to Dr. Jollier and said in a low voice : 

Read.’^ 

Tlie physician looked at the superscription. 

This is a letter,” said he, ‘‘addressed to ‘Ser- 
geant John Phillips, West Thirtieth Street Police 
Station.* It is typewritten. The contents are as 
follows : 

i “Sergeant John Phillips, alias James Hicks, car- 
penter of the ‘ Bride of Plymouth * : — You doubtless 
know that Powers and Jenkins are dead. Cholera 
took the first off and heart disease — ha ! ha ! heart 
disease ! — the other. It is your turn now to join 
them. Don’t dodge dark corners or look behind you 
when you are going home late at night. Neither 
knife, club or pistol will harm you. These are too 


3>K. JOLLIER AND LELAND. 


103 


simple and gross means. My weapon is ten times 
more deadly ; and it is secret. Before you are made 
a corpse (ten days from now) may you suffer the 
agonies I have suffered through you and your dia- 
bolical fellow conspirators ! 

Captain Mandeville.” 

'‘And Sergeant Phillips ? — ** continued Dr. Jollier 
gravely, fixing his eyes on the young man. 

" He died at the station house less than three 
hours ago. It was like a flash of lightning. Oh, 
what a fearful sight !*’ 

Leland buried his face in his hands. Indeed a man 
with no heart or spark of feeling at all might be 
expected to be moved by such piling on of fiendish 
deeds. 

The self controlled chief even shared the emotion 
of his friend. 

After a protracted silence, Leland, recovering him- 
self, described the brief circumstances leading up to 
the Sergeant's tragic demise, and told how he 
obtained possession of the type-written letter. It 
was as destitute of any clue to the identity — rather, 
the changed identity — of the murderous writer as 
was the similar epistle which had doomed George 
Barrett. It had been mailed from the General Post- 
Oiiice. The postmark was so indistinct, that the 
date could not be discerned. 

Of course," said Dr. Jollier, speaking very slowly, 
" we cannot tell without an examination what disease 
this damnable Captain Mandeville, as he calls him- 
self, employed to kill Sergeant Phillips. From the 


104 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLH, 


symptoms it may have been any of a half dozen. 
Some poisons would act in the same way, too* But 
I don’t think we have to deal with poison. The first 
thing is to get hold of that body and also do some 
disinfecting. God knows what frightful plague may 
not be let loose !” 

With these words the physician advanced to a 
corner of the room, where stood a small closet con- 
taining a telephone instrument. He called up the 
Contagious Diseases Bureau and ordered a disinfect- 
ing wagon sent immediately to the West Thirtieth 
Street Police Station. Then, as the telephone did 
not connect with the station house, he rang up Police 
Headquarters. 

This is Dr. Jollier.*' 

Yes, sir ; what can I do for you ?” replied the 
Headquarters operator. 

You know Sergeant Phillips of the Twenty-ninth 
precinct died before midnight 

‘‘ Yes.” 

“ Well, then, there is a suspicion some contagious 
disease killed him, and I have just sent one of our 
wagons to the station. I wish you would tell the 
people there not to have the body removed, if it has 
not been done already.” 

‘‘All right, sir. Good-by.” 

“ Good-by.” 

Shutting the door of the telephone closet Dr. 
Jollier quickly dressed himself, and a few minutes 
thereafter left the house accompanied by Leland. 
There were no upgoing cars in sight on Broadwa}^ 
and the two men set out afoot at a brisk pace for 


DB. JOLLIER AND LELAND. 


105 


Thirtieth Street. As they passed the tall spires of 
Grace Church, half glistening in the cold moonlight, 
Leland recollected of a sudden what information he 
had gained from old Capt. Rogers of Plymouth. 
The occurrences of the last few hours had quite 
driven it from his head. He repeated the conversa- 
tion faithfully to his companion, who listened with 
unwonted exterior attention. At the conclusion of 
the recital, Dr. Jollier, with a good deal of eagerness, 
said : 

Let me see that crew’s list.” 

Leland gave him his notebook. 

The Doctor stopped for a moment under a street 
lamp and glanced through the names. 

Ah !” he exclaimed, here is Tobias Jenkins, first 
mate ; Larry Powers, boatswain, and James Hicks, 
carpenter. This is like a partial key to the letter 
you found on the Sergeant. Jenkins was poor old 
George Barrett, Powers the miserable beggar ‘Mich- 
igan,’ and Hicks, Police Sergeant Phillips. But 
where does Captain Mandeville come in ? Is that a 
fictitious name ? Job Higgins, according to this 
record, was captain of the ‘ Bride of Plymouth.’ * 

^‘Oh, I neglected to tell you that Higgins did not 
command the vessel on her last voyage,” said Le- 
land. “ Captain Rogers said the ‘ Bride ’ was char^ 
tered by an English company that put one of its 
own captains on board. Mandeville was probably 
that man.” 

“ That explains it,” responded Dr. Jollier, mechan- 
ically, as he handed the notebook back to the young 
man. 


106 


CAPTAIN MANDETILLE, 


No further conversation was had until the two 
turned the corner of Thirtieth Street. Then Leland 
remarked : 

“Doctor, I have never been much of a believer in 
the extraordinary, but the experiences of the last 
week have convinced me that there are mysteries 
and bizarre occurrences outside of novels. I sup- 
pose if any one were recounted these things they 
would only take them for a work of the imagination. 
This is a paradoxical kind of mystery, too. Unless 
some mistake has been made, we know the right 
names of the slayer and the slain ; something of their 
previous common history ; the methods of the 
former. We have even seen letters written by the 
murderer, have known the hour they were mailed, 
and from where. Perhaps one of us has brushed 
shoulders with him on the street. Yet he is as effect- 
ually hidden as if he were the inhabitant of another 
world.** 

It is doubtful whether the physician heard these 
words ; he was occupied with reflections of his own. 

The fumigators* wagon was standing in front of 
the station house, and the men were hard at work 
inside, when Dr. Jollier and Leland came up. Cor- 
oner Schultz had given permission to remove the 
body, and a Sixth Avenue undertaker was preparing 
to take it to his shop, when the Headquarters opera- 
tor telegraphed Dr. Jollier’s instructions. So the 
corpse remained on the sofa in the captain’s room. 

Dr. Jollier went in to take a look at it. There 
was nothing pathologically unusual in the dead man’s 
appearance, but the face was indeed drawn into a 


DR. JOLLIER AND LELAND. 


107 


frightful shape. Nor did it seem the result of phy- 
sical disease. The victim had simply felt his end at 
hand and had died before the look of fearful terror 
could be extinguished from his countenance. Not 
until the flesh rotted from the bones would those 
dreadful features be annihilated. 

While the disinfectors plied their carbolic swabs 
and burnt sulphur in the improvised dead room, Dr. 
Jollier learned the late address of Sergeant Phillips 
and summoned another wagon by telephone to go 
there and fumigate the house. Soon the disinfecting 
corps finished its work at the police station and 
placing the body of the Sergeant in their wagon 
drove away. They had orders to leave it in the 
chiefs dissecting room. 

Sergeant Phillips had lived in a house in West 
Sixteenth Street, a not unpretentious structure which 
rumor said he had purchased through his unholy 
levyings on harlots. When the announcement that 
he was to be tried on blackmail charges was made, 
the public affected a great horror of the offender ; 
the fact that nearly all police officers, from the 
highest to the lowest, fatten off vice and crime by 
privately licensing it was a too notorious and indefi- 
nite one to be specially regarded. Phillips was no 
better or worse than his fellow officials. Through 
long practice he had come to believe, like others, 
that he had a right to receive pay from women of 
the town for tolerance. Perhaps, after all, that 
hypocritical modern sentiment that we should preach 
honesty in open and practice its opposite in secret, 
pass rigorous and imbecile laws of morality and then 


108 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


wink at them when they are down in the statute 
books, laws only useful for the purposes of black- 
mail — perhaps this was more to blame than any 
inherent depravity in Sergeant Phillips. He was 
married and had a daughter of sixteen. Both the 
wife and daughter had been paying a visit to a 
relative in the country for the last week and the 
sergeant had consequently been living alone for that 
time. It was, therefore, an easy matter for the dis- 
infectors who went to his house to perform their 
work. 

Dr. Jollier and Leland left the station house to- 
gether and had the luck to catch an elevated train 
which carried them down to Eighth Street. Their 
respective homes were a short walk from there. 
Before the physician left Leland at the entrance to 
the latter’s lodgings he made an engagement to meet 
the young man at the Contagious Diseases Bureau. 

It was now close on to four o’clock in the morning 
and an uncommonly sharp one at that ; so neither 
the Doctor or the reporter were sorry to be indoors 
again. 


• 

CHAPTER XII. 

MALLEI. 

Bacteriologist Wilbur and his assistant, -Dr. Clem- 
ence, had just lunched together in a Houston Street 
restaurant, which is equally patronized by police- 
men, reporters and others whose business keeps them 


MALLEI. 


109 


at Police Headquarters. They were now sitting in 
their workshop in a dusty loft and each was smok- 
ing a fragrant cigar before starting on the labors of 
the second half of the day. Wilbur was a large jawed, 
ponderous sort of a man who tipped the scales in the 
neighborhood of two hundred pounds. The assist- 
ant, a comparatively young Frenchman, who had 
studied under Pasteur, was medium sized in figure, 
very enthusiastic in his work and given more to con^ 
templation than to talk. 

‘‘ Clemence,’' said the chief bacteriologist, ab- 
stractedly tapping his waistcoat at its point of 
greatest distention, ‘‘ where the devil do you think 
Jollier gets his odd cases for culturing? Awhile 
ago he brought us anthrax and now we've got some- 
thing else ; ‘ dangerous,' he says. Jollier can't be 
trying experiments. Hasn't got the time." 

You think the anthrax and the last specimen 
come from guinea pigs — rabbits, eh ?" replied the 
Frenchman. 

Why, yes," said Dr. Wilbur, with an inflection of 
surprise, “ You had charge of 'em, you know." 

Dr. Clemence chuckled. 

‘‘ They — were — human cultures ?" 

‘‘ Certain-ly." 

Damned queer, to say the least," muttered Dr. 
Wilbur. ‘‘Clemence, you ought to have told me 
this before. Jollier didn't say anything to you 
about them, did he ?" 

The assistant said not. 

“ Well, that last one ought to be ready now. Let’s 
see what it is." 


110 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


Dr. Clemence flung his cigar into a tin box that 
did duty for a spittoon and opening the doors of an 
oven like apparatus standing in a corner of the 
room, took out a glass test tube. The contents of 
the tube when it was placed in the incubator six 
hours before were colorless. Now the culture 
medium of Japanese moss and beef tea was specked 
with tiny particles a yellowish white in hue. Each 
speck represented a colony of millions upon millions 
of microbes. Removing the cotton plug, the assist- 
ant inserted a bit of platinum wire in the tube and 
withdrawing it just touched the point in a shallow 
circular saucer. To the successive application of 
various chemicals the cultures responded properly 
and the last part of the test was to place a particle of 
the infected medium under the lenses of a powerful 
microscope. Dr. Clemence did this, gazed long and 
earnestly through the glass, and lifting his head 
with a satisfied air, pronounced the word : 

Mallei.*' 

Dr. Wilbur got up from his seat and also looked 
through the microscope. 

“ Glanders, sure enough," said he ; then added : 
‘‘ Next time I see Jollier I'll ask him where he got it. 
It's not our business to know, Clemence ; but, by the 
gods ! I’m curious as an old woman about this, 
You're certain, though, that it's a human culture ?" 

Oh, yes," replied the assistant, positively. It 
came, just like the other one, from the base of a 
man's skull, in the back. More skin than anything 
else. Looked purely local. May have been an ex- 
periment on a dead subject." 


MALLEI. 


Ill 


remember/* continued Dr. Clemence, after a re- 
flective pause, how a bright fellow named St. Pierre, 
who was in my class with Pasteur six years ago^ 
died of this very disease. His father was a rich 
count and disinherited him because he took to this 
branch of medicine. But he was very much devoted 
to the science and would not leave it. Monsieur 
Pasteur loved him as his own son. He did some 
wonderful laboratory work. As in every well-regu- 
lated laboratory, there were some strict rules ; foi 
example, you had always to wash your hands in dis- 
infectants before and after handling tubes and so oir.. 
St. Pierre was a model in the observance of these 
rules and never broke one until one morning when 
he was in a great hurry. He had a slight cut in the 
first finger of his right hand. He went through a 
glanders experiment without bandaging the finger, 
as he should have done. Next morning he was 
dead.** 

That was an accident,** commented the chief 
bacteriologist, but what are these of Jollier*s ?** 
‘‘Who knows?” said the Frenchman. “At any 
rate, I will make out our report and send it to himj' 
In the back room were several hutches of small 
animals, involuntary and unsuspecting victims to 
experiments with terrible diseases. The hutches 
were placed in a row on a shelf running along the 
side of the wall and elevated a couple of feet from 
tl>e floor. In yonder cage was a large, white sad- 
eyed rabbit sitting on his haunches, his fore paws 
resting on the bars ; a pathetic attitude. The creat- 
ure seemed to realize that an unnatural agency of 


112 


CAPTAlI^ MANDEViLLfi* 


death was slowly killing it. A shaven spot, inflamed 
like a boil, upon the right side of the rabbit, showed 
where the daily injection of tuberculosis was intro- 
duced. Next to this animal was a cage full of 
squeaking guinea pigs, that dashed back and forth, 
burrowed energetically in their straw carpet, and 
acted generally like a lot of boys just let out of 
school. These little beasts had not as yet been used. 
Right next to them, however, was a box with a soli- 
tary occupant, an almost pure white guinea pig, 
that had enough diphtheretic toxine in his system to 
kill three men. The doctors had given him a daily 
increasing dose of toxine for two weeks, and now 
the old fellow had about reached the limit of his 
endurance. He was feebly crawling around his 
cage. A tiny white bandage, like a horse's saddle 
band, encircled the animal’s stomach. The injection 
place, near the spinal column, had become so sore 
that a bandage was necessary. 

Of a sudden there was a snapping sound, some 
drops, a chorus of squeals and then a noise of small, 
pattering feet. A colony of guinea pigs had insurrect- 
ed and gnawing a wooden bar until it broke they had 
jumped to the floor and scampered off in a dozen 
different directions. 

“ Sacre !” exclaimed Dr. Clemence, rising in hor- 
ror. Those leetle pigs have run away again." The 
Doctor talked pigeon-English when he was excited. 

Dr. Wilbur was too bulkily endowed by nature to 
take part in such sport as catching escaped guinea 
pigs. Therefore, he calmly folded his arms and 
watched his assistant capture the runaways. A 


MALLEI. 


113 


good many of them had hidden behind boxes and 
had otherwise disposed of themselves so that it was 
difScuIt to find them all. Dr. Clemence was engaged 
in a lieated search for three missing ones when the 
door of the laboratory was opened by Dr. Jollier. 

‘‘A rebellion, eh ?” said the visitor, taking in the 
occurrence at a glance. 

“Yes,’' replied Clemence, with returned good 
nature. “ I suppose the little fellows wanted exer- 
cise.” 

“ They gave you some,” chuckled Dr. Wilbur 
coming forward. 

“ Exercise might do you good,” retorted the assist- 
ant, whereat all three laughed. 

The caller nodded to Dr. Wilbur and the two 
went into the latter’s private office. 

“Well,” said Dr. Jollier, “did you find anything 
in the last culture I gave you ?” 

“ If you will wait a few seconds I’ll hand you a 
complete report,” replied the other, selecting a blank 
from a pigeon-hole of his desk. He soon filled out 
the sheet and gave it to Dr. Jollier. 

The chief of the Contagious Diseases Division 
read the laconic report and tightly compressing his 
lips, folded the slip of paper and pocketed it. 

Dr. Wilbur had seen that lip compression before 
and knew it meant something serious. Neverthe- 
less, he boldly asked : 

“ Doctor, do you care to say where you have ob- 
tained these cultures ? I have not had anything to 
do with thena, but tells me they are hu- 

man,” 


114 


CAPTAIN MANDEYILLE. 


After thinking a moment, Dr. Jollier replied : 

No, Wilbur, Tm afraid I can't tell you anything 
now. It wouldn't do any good and already there 
are enough persons in the secret. It’s the most 
miserable thing I ever came across and I wish I 
had never heard of it myself. Some future time I 
may let you know all, if you then desire it. I hope 
you won't put any unpleasant interpretation on my 
refusal, Doctor.'’ 

“ No, no," responded the bacteriologist, quickly. 
‘‘ I do not doubt that whatever the circumstances you 
are doing the right thing. I simply knew the cultures 
were out of the ordinary and was a little curious. 
Now that you have said the word I won’t mention 
the subject again. The sphinx couldn't be more dis- 
creet than I." 

‘'Glad to hear it," quoth Dr. Jollier, pleasantly, 
taking his departure. “ Discretion nowadays is a 
rare gift. I wish I had more of it myself/’ 


CHAPTER XIII. 

LIVERPOOL REPORT. 

When Dr. Jollier returned to his office he found a 
note from the chief of police requesting him to call. 
The day before the physician had asked the superin- 
tendent to cable the Liverpool authorities to forward 
immediately any information obtainable concerning 


LIVERPOOL REPORT. 


115 


the ‘‘Bride of Plymouth.” Surmising that this in- 
formation had arrived, Dr. Jollier hurried across the 
smooth asphalted street, entered the frowning, gray 
marble fronted police building and nodding to the 
officers on duty as a sort of indifferent countersign, 
walked past them into the Superintendent’s room. 

The executive head of the great department that 
comprises in the neighborhood of 3,000 uniformed 
officers and a force of more than half a hundred 
keen detectives, sat behind a small imitation of a 
police station desk surrounded by railing. He was 
old. That could be seen in the slight stoop of the 
shoulders, the baldness of the fore part of the head, 
the grayness of the remaining locks. He was also 
vigorous and soldierly. His great drooping mous- 
tachios and uniform with its gilt buttons and many 
stripes, betokening long service, his sharp gray eyes 
— imparted to him a distinguishing air. He was the 
famous thief-catcher whose name all over the world 
was a synonym for an unrivaled Vidocq. He had 
lately been elevated from chief of detectives to the 
police superintendency. 

“ Guggins, see if the fire is all right in the front 

room,” said Superintendent B , as the Doctor 

entered. 

At this signal a lanky, grizzly bearded man, who 
had been lounging in a corner, retreated noiselessly 
through a side door. He was an ex-sleuth, retired 
from active service, and his business was to see that 
the chief got no harm from any stranger, at the in- 
terviews of whom with the Superintendent he was 
always present, either in plain sight or concealed 


116 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


behind a screen. This bodyguard was neither an 
indication of timorousness on the part of the Chief 
nor was it an idle precaution. The man who had 
sent hundreds of rogues to prison for long and short 
terms of years and who continually was harrassing 
the army of thieves and was making the metropolis 
an uncomfortable place for them, .necessarily had 
fierce enemies who only desired a favorable op- 
portunity to assassinate him. The greatest detec- 
tive on earth might not be able to save himself from 
the unexpected bullet of a visitor. The Chief knew 
this and although his heart would probably not beat 
one stroke faster if a pair of desperadoes had revol- 
vers aimed at his temples, he unarmed, yet he saw 
the wisdom of a policy of precaution and acted ac- 
cordingly. 

Ah, Dr. Jollier, sit down, won’t you ?” said the 
Superintendent, cordially, drawing up a chair beside 
him. Palmer of Liverpool has replied to the cable 
I sent for you. Here it is. You can read it for 
yourself.” 

The physician took the open envelope. The mes- 
sage was very brief. It ran as follows : 

'' No * Bride of Plymouth ’ ever docked here. No 
ship has carried gold to Australia in thirty years. 
Mandeville not known. Palmer.” 

Dr. Jollier was staggered. Here, at a stroke, 
seemed to be destroyed the whole fabric of the 
theory which previously had appeared as correct as 
though it were the sworn fact. It was as if all the 


LlVERt»OOL REl^ORf. 


117 


blocks of a puzzle fitted except one. This so, the 
whole combination of blocks was manifestly wrong. 

What do you think of it?’’ said Dr. Jollier, hand- 
ing the message to the Superintendent after he had 
himself read it over three times. 

‘‘ Think it’s Gospel truth,” returned the other, 
promptly. “ Palmer is no American detective and I 
have known him to do some foolish things. At the 
same time he’s a very careful man and he never says 
a thing until he is ready to swear to it. Oh, you 
can rely on Palmer. Little cranky sometimes, but he 
tells the truth.” 

The Superintendent took out a pocket knife and 
began cleaning his nails, or went through the 
motions, for his nails did not need cleaning. Then, 
as if he just remembered, he said, in a soft voice : 

Why ?” 

The Doctor flushed. 

Superintendant B , the observer would have 

thought, did not notice the color, for he seemed to 
be gazing out of the window. The Superintendent, 
nevertheless, did mark the change in his visitor’s 
countenance. He had a reputation among crim- 
inals of possessing an extraordinary visual faculty 
that enabled him to see around a corner.” 

‘‘You mean to say by your question that I 
expected a different reply ?” 

“ Yes,” murmured the Superintendent, now study- 
ing the ceiling very hard. 

“Well,” quoth Dr. Jollier, frankly, “I did expect 
a very different answer from this. I don’t know how 
to account for what Palmer says here.” 


118 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLB. 


You can depend on Palmer. If he sent this 
cable it’s correct,” returned the Chief, this time shift- 
ing his gaze to the Doctor’s face. 

For almost a minute the Doctor said nothing. 
The Superintendent employed the interval in work- 
ing on his nail dressing, a never ending task. 

‘‘ This is something that shouldn’t get out,” at 
length remarked Dr. Jollier, picking up his hat and 
drawing out his cigar case. 

Say no more. I understand,” quickly said Su- 
perintendent B . “ Have one of my Cubas — no ? 

Oh, yes, I see. Don’t smoke them. Well, good-by.” 

The Doctor walked out. 

The Superintendent pressed an electric button and 
Guggins loafed in. 

“ Guggins, you saw that Liverpool cable ?” 

Yes, sir.” 

But you’ve forgotten what it said ?” 

“ N — o — ” 

What !” 

Oh, y-e-s, certainly !” 

‘‘ Well, then, keep forgetting ; and tell that Sunday 
paper man in front that I’ll see him now.” 

Guggins salaamed and obeyed. 


THE ATLANTIC CABLE. 


119 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE ATLANTIC CABLE. 

The night before the events just narrated, between 
the hours of 7 and 8, two men might have been seen 
sitting at a table by themselves in a German beer 
garden on the lower Bowery. One was a hard fea- 
tured, stubbly bearded fellow, with an insolent sort 
of look. He wore a cutaway coat of mixed gray, 
loudly striped pantaloons, and a heavy, fuzzy, slate 
colored overcoat. His head was topped with a black 
Alpine hat tilted at an angle. His appearance told 
that he might belong to any one of a dozen classes 
of men. His companion was apparently a French- 
man. At least, he had a long silky black moustache 
and a tiny brush of hair under the lower lip, which 
manner of hirsute adornment is most affected by the 
Gallic people. The upper half of his face was in a 
shadow cast by a pillar, and the man seemed con- 
tented that it should be so. A soft hat was well 
drawn down over his forehead and like the other he 
wore a great enveloping overcoat, but of dark 
material. His clothes could not be seen underneath. 
He was suave in manner, low voiced, and did not 
permit himself to get excited, contrary to the hard 
featured one, who once or twice shot an angry look 
from his eyes and employed some profane ejacula- 
tions loud enough to be heard three or four tables 
away. Although these outbreaks attracted no visible 


120 CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. ' 

attention the man with the moustachios was not slow 
to remonstrate with his companion for his rashness. 
The remonstrance was as quickly heeded as it was 
forgotten. The impetuous individual seemed to 
recognize some sort of superiority in the apparent 
Frenchman. Indeed, he addressed him as “ Your 
Honor and in his quieter moments marked his 
demeanor towards him with a resemblance to 
respect. 

No, Paxton, it can’t be done that way,’’ the 
superior was saying, decisively. 

Why not, Your Honor ? The easiest way is often 
the best. If what you say is right the kid’ll deliver 
it at the house about two in the morning. It’s dark 
on that side of the street, and there’re plenty of 
fancy stone railings to hide behind. When the kid 
comes along, all there is to do is to nab him — ” 

Yes,” interposed the other, ‘ and one howl from 
him will bring ten private watchmen and five police- 
men on top of you.” 

“ As to that,” grimly responded Paxton, I’d 
choke him so he couldn’t squeal a little bit. A sand 
bag mightn’t be out of place. Then to take the en- 
velope from his pocket and slip in the one you give 
me. He comes to, isn’t hurt much, feels in his 
pocket, message there all right, delivers it.” 

‘‘ How do you know they would not wait till morn- 
ing ?" 

Never, Your Honor. A cable like this would be 
delivered immediately.” 

The speaker looked eagerly at the Frenchman, ex- 
pecting his assent. 


THE ATLANTIC CABLE, 


121 


The latter shook his head. 

‘‘You, Paxton,*' said he, “ are a man of some clev- 
erness. You're no ordinary cutthroat or sandbagger 
— although you may have been — well, never mind that. 
You are acknowledged to be one of the most expert 
telegraphers in the country. You must increase 
your reputation. You say it is impossible to tap a 
cable without it's being instantly discovered. Well, let 
them discover, but they will not find out the cause. 
The break can be repaired almost as soon as it is 
made. As to getting at the cable, you are burglar 
enough for that. You have all the necessary tools 
and the instrument, I believe, in your overcoat pocket. 
It is now fifteen minutes of eight o'clock. Start in 
three-quarters of an hour and you will be in time to 
intercept the message. I have learned that there has 
been a great strike of longshoremen in Liverpool 
to-day, and there is a banquet to the Prince of Wales 
and the American ambassador there to-night. So 
the wires will be crowded with press dispatches until 
quite late. Our bit of news ought to come along 
about half-past ten, which will mean it's about half- 
past two o'clock in the morning on the other side. 
Yes, Paxton, here's the chance of your life to do a 
thing never done before — tap an Atlantic cable. 
Why, man, it’s worth going to State's prison on !” 

“Your Honor may joke me," sullenly replied the 
telegrapher, “ but it doesn't seem such a fine job to 
me. And if I did get tripped up, why, in order to 
save myself at the trial, I might mention a name or 
two." 

The Frenchman started, almost imperceptibly. 


122 


CAPTAIN MANDEYILLB. 


You do not know my name,” he responded, icily, 
his semi-bantering manner disappearing. 

Paxton impetuously leaned forward and was about 
to pronounce the syllables of a name, when the other 
suddenly whispered : 

‘‘ Fool ! have you forgotten already your obliga- 
tions to me? If I wished I could this moment snuff 
out your miserable life without the knowledge of 
any one ! Do as I bid you — or take the conse- 
quences.” 

The telegrapher shrank back as if in affright and 
humbly asked pardon. 

At that moment a white aproned waiter, seeing 
that the glasses in front of the two men were empty, 
came up. It was a rule of the house that an empty 
glass should not be permitted to stand longer than 
five minutes, the purchase of liquor being the only 
admission fee, as in other like resorts. 

The self possessed individual gave the orders and 
the waiter moved off. 

Now, Paxton,” said he, there’s no benefit in my 
frightening you and you can’t frighten me. So we 
can be quits there. You know what to do. Here 
is the message you must substitute and here is 
money enough to pay you for your trouble.” 

The telegraph operator tucked the slip of paper 
into a pocket and received the roll of bills rather 
shamefacedly. 

‘‘Your honor is too kind,” he mumbled. “I de- 
serve to be where you found me instead of a free 
man. But to-night I will repay part of the debt. It 


V 


THE ATLANTIC CABLE. 


123 


is nearly time for me to leave. When shall I see 
Your Honor again 

A week from to-day,” promptly answered the 
Frenchman; ‘‘at this same hour and at this table. 
And, by-the-by, do you notice that fellow to the left 
watching us out of the corner of his eye ? Look out 
for him. He may be an officer. Go first and I will 
follow later.” 

Paxton swallowed the beer remaining in his glass, 
lit a short pipe, and ostentatiously shaking hands with 
his companion, departed. The suspected detective 
got up also and went out after him. The Frenchman 
satisfied himself that no other inquisitive person was 
in sight and then left the place in turn. He walked 
down to Chatham Square and jumping into one of 
the cabs standing on the East Side told the jehu in 
loud tones to drive to a Brooklyn address. 

Meanwhile the telegrapher had sauntered up the 
Bowery. Soon he suspected that he was really being 
shadowed. Adopting the simple ruse of suddenly 
turning a corner and then waiting for his pursuer to 
come up, he almost collided with the man of the 
beer garden. The latter, not much discomposed by 
the exposure, continued his chase when Paxton 
resumed walking. Considerably annoyed, Paxton 
bent his steps towards Essex Street, that hive of 
filthy population. The chaser kept a half a block 
behind. On a sudden Paxton dived into a street 
level hallway of a tall, overshadowing tenement 
house. A single gas jet shed a sickly jaundiced 
illumination in the hall, through which a nearly 
constant stream of children, women and men, jabber- 


124 


CAPTAIN MANDETILLE. 


ing in Yiddish, were passing. The telegrapher 
darted past the mob into a house in the rear, and 
then through a third building, when he found him- 
self in Ludlow Street. Without waiting to see how 
long it would take the man who was following to 
learn how he had been outwitted, Paxton hurried to 
the Second Avenue elevated road station at Grand 
Street and boarded a downtown train. 

After taking the ferry to Bay Ridge, Paxton found 
that he was the only passenger on the Manhattan 
Beach train. This was not the most desirable thing, 
because if any after unpleasantness arose the con- 
ductor would be likely to remember the solitary 
traveler. But it could not be helped, and Paxton, 
representing himself as a native of the island by the 
sea, engaged in an incidental conversation with the 
ticket taker. 

A storm of considerable violence, only a taste of 
wliich had been received inland, was raging at the 
Beach when Paxton alighted from the train. The 
sky was of an impenetrable blackness, the wind was 
coming in a steady sweep of cyclonic strength, alter- 
nated with sudden gusts of extra power, and the 
ocean was sending gigantic waves dashing up the 
sandy slope, which came in contact with the break- 
water with thunderous collisions. It was bitterly 
cold and occasionally seeming handfuls ^of snow 
were cast about by an invisible personage in the 
severe air. 

The contrast between this sandy desert ruled by 
howling winds and rapacious waves, and the brisk 
Manhattan Beach in the summer, the daily resort of 


THE ATLANTIC CABLE. 


125 


thousands of city dwellers, was very great. During 
the hot months the whole place was illuminated at 
night on a grand scale and mariners far out at sea 
beheld its myriads of twinkling lights as the ^adorn- 
ment of an enchanted city. Now there was darkness 
everywhere, except for the hazy light thrown out a 
short distance by a hotel or two which was not en- 
tirely closed. 

The cable hut, as the structure erected over tlie 
shore end of the immense submarine telegraph line, 
is called, stood nearly at the extreme eastern end of 
the beach, slightly elevated above the sand by piling. 
When it was first placed there the water was two 
liundred yards away. Now the spray from big rol- 
lers wet the door. The hut was a plain wooden 
affair, not larger than two good-sized rooms, with a 
window or so in it ; its clapboarded exterior painted 
a loud red. Above it floated the flag of the cable 
company. The only near-by building was a de- 
serted hotel several hundred feet to the west. 

It was supposed to be the duty of a corpulent 
watchman to visit the hut every hour; on anight 
like this, however, that guardian of peace and prop- 
erty resigned his trust to the elements and betook 
liimself to a warm corner of the kitchen of the near- 
est hostelry where he was known ; there, all snugly 
fixed, with a glass of steaming toddy in his hand, the 
amiable cook to converse with, what more could man 
or watchman want ? 

Paxton appreciated the safety to his undertaking 
afforded by the storm, but whatever satisfaction there 
was on that score, it was overbalanced by the rough- 


126 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


ness and discomfort of the night. Turning up the | 
capacious collar of his overcoat, buttoning the great i 
garment tightly about him, and pulling his hat over 
his ears, the telegrapher sallied forth from the depot 
and trudged through the sand of a path used princi- 
pally by the islanders. To see more than a very few 
feet ahead was an impossibility ; in fact, it was a 
dangerous matter to open the eyes at all, for clouds 
of sand, each particle hard and dry as a shot pellet, 
were ever and again swept up from the surface of the 
beach and dispersed with great force through the 
atmosphere. Paxton, however, knew every inch — or 
yard — of the island ground and sight was not a nec- 
essary condition to his finding the cable hut. Sev- 
eral times the hurricane-like wind, there being noth- 
ing in that exposed region to break its force, threat- 
ened to blow away the lone traveler, who at these 
critical moments discreetly laid himself down until 
the fury of the gust lessened. For the most part the 
wind seemed to roar in one giant monotone, with 
slight changes in volume, while the crashing of the 
waves was as the noise of cymbals in this mighty 
orchestra of nature. 

After a quarter of an hour’s hard struggling with 
the shrieking blast, Paxton arrived at the door of the 
cable hut, which he would have been glad to break 
in without any formality were it not for the instruc- 
tions of his superior. So for another ten minutes he 
fumbled with the lock before the false key in his 
hand would open the portal. A hastily lighted 
match revealed an oil lamp standing on the table. 
As soon as this was lit Paxton looked at his watcbj 


THE ATLANTIC CABLE. 


127 


and immediately uttered a loud, profane exclamation. 
It was just lo : 20 o’clock and not a moment could be 
safely lost. 

The rays of the lamp showed a bare and rather 
cheerless interior ; the walls were constructed only 
of stout planks nailed together, which were, however, 
storm tight ; two sash windows were placed at oppo- 
site ends, one looking out on the wild ocean and the 
other on the salt meadows ; there was a small closet 
in a corner. One would have been deceived into 
believing this structure the legitimate descendant of 
a huge packing box, were it not for a brick pier, 
about two feet square, that rose waist high from the 
center of the floor. This pier was to assure a level 
place and absolute steadiness for the delicate instru- 
ments which detect faults in the submarine line. Its 
foundation was twenty feet below the sand, upon an 
immovable rock. Carelessly trailed across its top 
was the loop of the cable, which for a distance of 
two feet or so was peeled of its armor to the gutta 
percha covered wires. One big black end came up 
from an augur hole in the floor, while a smaller end 
departed through a similar hole a short distance 
away. The latter went on underground through 
marshes and suburbs, the streets of Brooklyn, over 
the Brooklyn Bridge, and so to the company’s offices 
in Broad Street, a distance of about eleven miles. 
The former burrowed under the sand of the beach, 
went straight out to sea a mile and then turning up 
the coast lay along the ocean bottom, never very far 
out of sight of land, until Canso, Nova Scotia, was 
reached, an eight hundred mile submarine journey. 


128 


CAPTAIN MANDKVILLE. 


At Canso all messages were retransmitted through 
the longer section of the cable, two thousand three 
hundred miles, to Waterville, Ireland. 

It was the short section whicli the man who had 
just entered the cable hut proposed to tap. Several 
jars, containing acid, zinc and copper for the gener- 
ation of electricity, stood in a row on a shelf and 
connected with one of them were wires to form a 
complete battery. Paxton arranged the contents of 
this jar so as to immediately start the current of 
electricity needed for his work. Then drawing a 
stool up to the pier he set himself to finding out 
which of the four wires of tlie core was in use. 
There are such a number so that if one fails there 
are yet three others to fall back on. The test was to 
scrape off well the gutta percha for a space of six or 
seven inches and then to hold the pointer of an ordin- 
ary compass close to the wire. When the third steel 
thread had been uncovered the compass was violently 
affected, the needle swinging frantically in the 
direction of an outgoing message. 

When a momentary lull was indicated by the com- 
pass Paxton dexterously cut with a p:.ir of pincers 
the wire in two places about a foot apart. He then 
rapidly placed a telegraph instrument he had drawn 
from his pocket in the gap and completed the circuit 
by joining together the wire again. He also con-^ 
nected the battery with the instrument. When the 
next dispatch came through the operator read it as 
easily from the click — click, click, click — click click — 
click, click, click of the instrument as if it were 
spoken matter. Business ciphers, press dispatches^ 


THE ATLANTIC CABLE. 


129 


stories of failure, success, of life and of death, the 
concerns of two continents, flashed back and forth 
over the metal strand, diving into or emerging from 
the depths of the sea. Liverpool news came along, 
but nothing addressed to the Superintendent of 
police. The minutes slid away until it was ii o’clock 
— about 2 : 30 A. m. on the other side. Outside the 
storm was still raging, but owing to the tightness of 
the hut’s construction the clamor did not penetrate 
except in a subdued, far away, uniform roar which 
did not in the least interfere with the ticks of the 
instrument. 

A pause. The solitary occupant of the hut listened 
intently. The machine began to tick nervously. It 
spelled out the letters S-u-p-e-r-i-n-t-e-n-d-e-n-t B — * 
Before the next letter could begin Paxton had almost 
savagely broken the land wire connection and was 
writing down the message on a pad. 

❖ * jje % 

In the operators’ room of the cable company a 
stout middle aged man was pounding energetically 
on his key and calling for Q,” the Canso tele- 
grapher, to know why he had so abruptly ended. 
There was no reponse for two or three minutes ; the 
circuit seemed broken. At length the sounder, evi- 
dently manipulated by another person, replied that 

Q ” had been taken temporarily ill and that a new 
man would complete the message. 

“ Hell !’* said the fat operator to himself, taking 
down the dispatch, this new man must be using a 


130 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


lot of force or electricity, one or the other. Seems 
as if he was only about ten miles away !” 

* * Hi ♦ 

Paxton, as soon as he had telegraphed the coun- 
terfeit message from Chief Palmer of the Liverpool 
Police, skillfully restored the cut wire to its former 
appearance by joining it together and replacing on 
the outside the smooth coat of gutta percha, which 
he heated over the lamp to render it pliable. He 
covered the other wires likewise and returned the 
instrument to his pocket. Thus, with every trace of 
tampering with the cable literally covered up, the 
operator left the hut, locking the door behind him. 

The storm had not abated and it was considerable 
exertion to return to the depot. No train was go- 
ing to leave the Beach until morning ; a locomotive, 
however, had been ordered to go immediately to 
Long Island City. A $5 bill, judiciously applied to 
the engineer, secured passage for Paxton on the 
locomotive. In the breast pocket of his coat was 
stowed away the real Liverpool dispatch. 


CHAPTER XV. 

DIPHTHERIA. 

That week when a semi-epidemic of unusual dis- 
ease fell upon the Metropolis will never be forgotten 
by the Board of Health officers who had to deal 
with it. 


DIPHTHERIA. 


131 


It was in late November, cold clear weather. 
According to all laws of medicine the breaking out 
of certain sicknesses at such a germ killing temper- 
ature was impossible ; yet it came to pass. For 
many months thereafter the medical journals were 
filled with articles going to explain the wonder. Dr. 
Jollier, despite his close connection with the affair, 
never contributed to the discussion. The news- 
papers gave considerable space to the week's record. 

An old Jew pawnbroker was the first victim. 
Methuselah Issac Silverstein was his full name, but 
his familiar title was “ Ike/' He was a stoop-shoul- 
dered, grizzly, sharp-eyed copy of Fagin. It is true 
he lacked some of the villainous opportunities of the 
latter. To the police he was known as a long-estab- 
lished ‘‘ fence," and more than once had come within 
uncomfortable proximity to State Prison for complic- 
ity with thieves. His place was on Chatham Square. 
Above the narrow doorway hung the regulation three 
hollow tin balls, with most of the gilding worn off. 
The window display was not out of the ordinary. 
Medals of all countries, decorations, watches, pistols, 
daggers, opera glasses, watch chains, rings, pins, 
jewelry odds and ends, violins, a guitar, several har- 
monicas — these were the articles, dusty to a degree, 
piled up in rather indiscriminate array, that attracted 
the eyes of the passers-by. 

Inside, the shop was not larger than two second- 
rate hotel bed-rooms, and taken up chiefly .with a 
glass counter and show case combined. The pro- 
prietor lived, and also conducted the nefarious part 
of his business transactions in a rear room, access to 


132 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


which was very conveniently and secretly afforded 
by pulling on a supposed hook screwed into the 
wall. It was in this double private apartment that 
the old Jew was stricken, and had not one of his old 
cronies come along and seeing the place locked 
effected a forcible entry, he might have given up the 
ghost and reposed there physically for an indefinite 
period of time. As it was, he gave out a feeble call 
for assistance, when he heard the visitor rummaging 
about, and the latter was guided by the voice to the 
dying Jew’s retreat. 

A doctor was called. He in turn notified the 
Contagious Diseases Division. Malignant diphtheria 
was quickly discovered to be the illness. While in a 
delirious condition, and just before he died at the 
reception hospital, where he had been taken en 
route for North Brother Island, Silverstein told the 
disjointed fragments of a weird tale, which the- 
doctors pronounced the child of wandering reason. 

“ God of Isaac!” screeched the Jew, in a paroxosym, 
“ that Frenchman is mine murderer ! His eyes they 
pierce me like red hot needles, and he says, ‘Jew, 
you are dead before next sun-down !’ And vere vill 
all my beezness go } Some thief will steal it, may- 
be ! Oh, God I Oh, God !” 

Putting together these babbled pieces made it ap- 
pear that a Frenchman — so he looked — had called 
in the evening at Silverstein’s shop. Under pre- 
tense of important private business, the sale of pur- 
loined plate, the proprietor was induced to give the 
visitor audience in the secret room. Suddenly, 
while in the midst of their negotiations, the French- 


HYDROPHOBIA. 


133 


man leaped at the Jew’s throat and bore him to the 
floor. He choked him into insensibility. When the 
Jew recovered himself the visitor was gone. Strange 
to say, he had taken nothing. So robbery would 
not explain his queer actions. Silverstein felt stiff 
and sore. In the morning he was attacked by such 
a languor that he was unable to get up. Then the 
full force of the sickness came. 

Dr. Jollier happened to be at the Reception 
Hospital shortly after the man died and heard his 
incoherent story repeated by a nurse. Without 
making any comments he carefully examined the 
neck of the corpse. There was nothing wrong there. 
Just behind the left ear, however, the doctor dis- 
covered the inflamed puncture mark which an- 
nounced the diabolical murderer’s work. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

HYDROPHOBIA. 

The next case of virulent disease reported was 
very like the first in some respects. The proprietor 
of a second hand book store on lower Fourth Avenue 
became siezed of a very strange illness. There has 
never been a like instance in medical history before 
or since. Ebenezer Pettit was the name of the book 
seller, a long, lean character, dry and dusty as his 
own wares ; a man whose face might have been 


134 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


made of wood so far as expression goes ; a silent 
man, the average type of his class. His thoughts ? 
His extent of intellect ? His feelings ? His desires ? 
Who can answer these questions concerning a sales- 
man of decrepit volumes? Joseph had a comparatively 
easy task in interpreting the dream of King Pharaoh. 
Had he been asked to read the thoughts of a Fourth 
Avenue second hand book store keeper he might 
have been less willing to essay the feat. 

Ebenezer Pettit had no more visible antecedents 
than the occupants of his shelves. Both he and they 
undoubtedly had an origin and growth, or decline. 
Neither revealed it. During sleeping hours he ten- 
anted a small, bare room in a dreary, old-fashioned 
house, within a stone’s throw ot his shop. Every 
night for twenty years he had, sharp on the stroke 
of ten, closed his store and walked to this room, 
where he arrived at precisely lo : 03 o’clock. He 
arose punctually at half past seven, botli summer 
and winter alike. Three times a week he shaved 
himself. He prepared chocolate for his breakfast 
over the gas jet in his room. At noon he had a 
sandwich and made tea over the gas jet in his shop. 
At 6 : 30 he dined frugally in a third-rate restaurant 
across the street. The monthly rent for the apart- 
ment in which he slept, was always found by his 
landlady, the day before it fell due, in the emptied 
water pitcher. Twelve years ago he failed to empty 
the pitcher before putting in the rent. A two dollar 
bill got wet. He never repeated the mistake. His 
landlady saw his face but a half dozen times in the 
whole period of his tenantry. 


HYDROPHOBIA. 


135 


Thursday Morning had just entered Ebenezer 
Pettit’s shop. Tliursday Morning was an old col- 
lector who made his appearance in that neighbor- 
hood regularly upon the forenoon of the day which 
designated him. He was a short, stout, bald, spec- 
tacled old gentleman, of abstracted air and trotting 
gait. He knew the shelf where Pettit’s accessions 
since his last visit were kept, and straightway made 
for it. 

Ha ! Bless my soul ! What have we here V ex- 
claimed the old gentleman, his eye lighting upon a 
very ancient appearing volume which the title an- 
nounced contained a dissertation on The Oriental 
Religions ; Especially Mohammedanism.” 

Thursday Morning felt quite elated when he saw 
upon the title page the imprint of a London pub- 
lisher of the early part of the eighteenth century. 
Whatever the inherent merit of the work (nothing, 
probably) the experienced bibliophile recognized it 
as one valuable because it had no existing dupli- 
cate. 

Have you put a price on this ?” he asked, with- 
out removing his hungry gray , eyes from the third 
page of the closely printed volume, whither the 
lively optics had raced in less than a minute. 

“ Ten dollars,” was the terse reply of the immov- 
able shopkeeper. 

“ Collector’s discount i*” pursued Thursday Morn- 
ing, still reading. 

‘‘ That’s included.” 

My special discount ?” 

A low, grating, disagreeable snarl, like that of a 


136 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLB. 


huge mastiff disturbed at his meal, was the reply that 
caused Thursday Morning to drop his book in sudden 
alarm and jump nervously in a manner which under 
other circumstances might have «^eemed comical. 

No animal of the canine species was at his heels ; 
the old collector assured himself of this fact. Then 
he quickly looked up at the shopkeeper. 

The blood chilling transformation of visage that 
met his gaze, and the subsequent developments, are 
powerfully described by Thursday Morning himself 
in his diary : 

Never while I draw breath shall I forget my 
sensations of terror when I beheld the fearful change 
in the countenance of Ebenezer Pettit, and connected 
it with that inhuman sound. One second, five 
seconds before, and there was standing close by me 
a man with a well balanced mind ; erect, in full pos- 
session of all his faculties ; sensibly answering my 
questions ; a quiet, studious man ; almost as quiet 
and studious as myself. Then — in the space of five 
heart-beats ! 

Where human features had been, I saw the dull 
animal face of a — dog I Accurately, it was the 
repulsive face of a bull dog. Thick folds of flesh 
depended from about the corners of the mouth and 
the under lip curled over, exposing the teeth and the 
red, glabrous skin, from which saliva profusely 
dripped. A fierce, wild glare was in the bloodshot 
and meaningless eyes. 

How is it possible for me to picture such a thing ? 
There is scarcely a word in the language that can 
express one-tenth of the fearfulness of that sight. 


STDROPHOBIA. 


137 


The rush of mingled and conflicting emotions almost 
caused me to lose my senses. 

Even while I stood shuddering, incapable of 
action, the Creature placed its hands, as if they were 
paws, on a counter, and with a low, deep-throated 
bark, jumped over it. A large sleek, yellow cat 
was curled up on a pile of unsorted books the other 
side of the counter. The Creature repeated its hor- 
rible snarl, and advanced on all fours towards the 
cat, which seemingly recognizing in the approaching 
monstrosity a species of its hereditary enemy, arched 
its back, spit, and then turning tail fled to the fur- 
thest corner of the apartment. 

‘‘ The door of the shop opened. A toddling, bright 
haired little girl stood on the sill with one hand on 
the knob ; a chubby finger in her mouth. She was 
a pretty little girl, and as she stood made a picture 
of childish innocence and demureness combined to 
melt the heart of even such an old curmudgeon as 
myself. She was, I afterwards learned, the daughter 
of a neighbor and had been sent to make some in- 
quiry about a book. 

‘‘ Relinquishing its pursuit of the cat and turning 
to the door, the Creature saw this child, and, damna- 
ble to relate, leaped towards her, growling ; saliva 
still dripping from the red chops. The little girl, 
frightened to the extent that she was capable, seemed 
to be silently fascinated, like the bird by the glitter- 
ing eye of the serpent. Nearer and nearer to her 
went the Creature. Next moment and she would 
have been torn to pieces. 

‘‘ When I saw the little one in such horrid danger 


138 


CAPTAIN MANBEVlLLP, 


I happily recovered the use of my faculties and also 
obtained a new strength. I am fairly agile, despite 
my sedentary life and years ; therefore, I managed to 
land upon the Creature’s back, bearing it flat to the 
floor, my arms twined about its body. 

The struggle that followed was terrific. Thus 
rudely made aware of my presence, the Creature 
snapped, barked, growled, snarled and howled. Like 
sounds I have heard in mad houses. We rolled all over 
the floor, I retaining my back hold ; sometimes under- 
neath, sometimes on top. Had it not been for the 
thick cloth of my overcoat my arm had been surely 
badly bitten, that would have meant death. How 
long I fought thus I do not know, it seemed several 
hours ; probably it was several minutes. The little 
child had run awa^^ In very good time for me a 
policeman, passing, heard the noise of scuffling, and 
the howls, and, hastily entering the shop, made the 
Creature insensible with a blow on the head with 
his club, 

‘‘ Breathless, I explained to the incredulous officer 
as rapidly as I could what had happened. The 
Creature was lying on its stomach, with its face hid- 
den. The policeman turned the body so that he 
could see the dreadful animal lineaments, and was 
convinced. 

To cut the story short — I must recollect I am 
writing in my diary and not for the eyes of a novel 
reader — the Creature was taken to a hospital, where 
it died at noon. Ebenezer Pettit, I consider, had 
died when the dog took possession of his bodily hull. 
Of course, the doctors said it was a kind of hydro- 


•IX MEN. 


139 


phobia ; new, but explainable enough. Some of the 
newspapers, I hear, made quite long accounts of it, 
in which I was characteristically lauded for ^ saving 
the little girl !’ Modern newspapers, in my opinion, 
should be abolished. They are a nuisance. I never 
read them. 

‘‘ I am sorry I lost that ^ Oriental Religions.* *' 

The theory held by physicians in the shopkeeper’s 
case was that he had been bitten by a mad bulldog ; 
the picture of the foaming-mouthed animal had been 
strongly fixed in his brain. When madness attacked 
him, the muscles of his face, in automatic response 
to the command of the brain, formed themselves into 
an imitation of the canine countenance. The vocal 
cords had been similarly affected. 

It was an odd circumstance that the medical men 
were unable to find any teeth marks on the man’s 
body. If he wasn’t bitten, how did he come by hy- 
drophobia, if such it was ? It was lamely suggested 
that the communication took place weeks previously, 
giving time for the healing of any slight wounds. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

SIX MEN. 

Where infectious disease was communicated to 
more than one person was in a certain lodging house, 
the Palace ” by name, oddly hidden between and 
behind two five-story Mulberry Bend tenements, a 


140 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


locality, by the way, that compares favorably (or 
unfavorably) with the most filthy and criminal pur- 
lieus of the English metropolis. Between the side 
walls of the tenement houses was a space not more 
than two feet in width ; this was the entrance to the 
‘‘ Palace.” A rusty little iron gate closed the pas- 
sage at eight in the morning and the gate did not 
open again until six o’clock at night. Looking in 
through the bars from the pavement outside, the 
view was obstructed at the end of the passage by a 
heap of old barrels ; the lodgers dodged around this 
screen and faced the rickety door of a two story 
brick structure — the Palace !” Accommodation for 
a night, which meant a vermin infested cot and the 
chance of losing all personal effects, even such as 
trousers and shoes, by theft, cost fifteen cents in coin 
of the realm. An Italian, who began life as a rag- 
man, was proprietor of the place. At times there 
were as many as ninety lodgers ; usually, half 
that number. Three-fourths of them belonged to 
the vagrant class, beings who inhabited the lowest 
groggeries by day ; who would only exert them- 
selves to beg under close necessity ; wrecks of men : 
then there were shambling gaited professional men- 
dicants, shifty eyed thieves ; a miserly Baxter Street 
puller-in, or individual whose business it was to 
drag passers-by into his employer’s store ; a street 
salesman of cheap toys and novelties, a waiter of the 
neighborhood impoverished by a spree ; and other 
characters of divers occupations. 

Nifty Jack,” a regular lodger, who, as generally 
known among his friends, employed his nimble 


SIX MEN. 


141 


fingers to illegal advantage, had not appeared at 
8 A. M., when all the guests were supposed to depart. 
So the clerk, a scowling visaged and muscular man, 
went to the apartment where the belated lodger was 
in his cot, and shouted : 

‘‘ Say, Nifty, don’t yeh know th’ rules o’ dis house ? 
Gittoutahere quick !” 

‘‘ I’m sick. Slider ; that’s a fact.” 

^‘None o’ that razzle-dazzle !” roared the Slider 
in reply. Gittamoveon, or I’ll split yer conk !” 

There was nothing for the unfortunate guest but 
to obey the clerk’s admonition ; the latter did often 
carry out his threats. So, pale-faced and disheveled 
looking, even for him. Nifty Jack staggered into the 
street. 

A doctor passing chanced to notice his counte- 
nance. Stopping, he said : 

“You look ill, man.” 

“ The way I feel,” quoth the pickpocket, with a 
weak smile. 

After asking a few questions, the physician told 
Nifty Jack to stay where he was for a short time, 
and got the policeman on the next corner to send 
for a Contagious Diseases Division ambulance. 

Upon due examination by an official diagnostician, 
the disease of Nifty Jack was pronounced to be 
small-pox. 

Realizing the danger from such a communicable 
and deadly sickness and the favorable local con- 
ditions to foster its spread, the entire Health Depart- 
ment, like a well drilled body of troops, expended 
its utmost energies to crush the enemy at a blow. 


142 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLK. 


The lodging house was placed under the most rigid 
quarantine. Every nook and cranny of it was 
reached either by powerful germ killing solutions or 
the fumes of burning chemicals. There was an 
endeavor made to round up every man who had 
slept in the Palace '' within the past week. In this 
work the Detective Bureau was enlisted. Indeed, 
twenty-four hours after the discovery of the plague, 
only two men were unaccounted for. 

One of them, a street peddler, was captured the 
next day in Jersey City, and brought back to the 

Palace,'' without, of course, the formality of an 
extradition. The other was not found, but an 
isolated case of small-pox occurring a month or so 
afterwards in a suburban town was attributed to him. 

Notwithstanding the efforts of the physicians, ten 
of the occupants of the quarantined house caught 
the infection. Six of them, including the unfortunate 
first attacked, soon thereafter required space in the 
Potter's Field. Their enfeebled and unhealthy 
bodies could not withstand a disease that would tax 
to the point of death the most vigorous mortal under 
the best treatment. 

Thus the number of the victims of that secret 
assassin was increased to eleven. 


D£T£CT1Y£ 


14 < 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

DETECTIVE REAPER. 

Saturday afternoon following the week of extraor- 
dinary sickness, found Arthur Leland waiting for 
Dr. Jollier in the latter’s office. The young man 
had in his hand a copy of an afternoon newspaper 
which purported to tell the true origin of the lodg- 
ing house epidemic, as obtained by one of the jour- 
nal's astute employees. The staring headlines out- 
stared the staring words. A ship from Lisbon, 
according to the imaginative tale, had arrived with a 
cargo of baled rags. These contained the infection, 
and the pickpocket in some unexplained way was 
thereby seized. Leland's lip curled a little scornfully 
as he read the account. 

At length the chief came in. He was smoking his 
accustomed black cigar. The casual observer would 
have said there was no particular care on his mind. 
Beneath the calm features of the man, however, were 
stored profound emotions. Even physically the 
strain upon the indefatigable Doctor, who had slept 
little during the late siege, was very great. 

Leland,” said Dr. Jollier, removing the cigar 
from his mouth, “ I may have a small item of news 
for your paper pretty soon.” 

“Ah! Doctor; you mean to say you are on the 
track to discover — him ?” excitedly exclaimed the 
young man. “ And the indications — ” 


14 : 4 : 


CArrAm MANDEVILLIi, 


“ Unfortunatel}', no/* interrupted the chief, im- 
passively. My news is not so great as that. It is 
just tills : Unless within the next fortnight I obtain 
some tangible clue towards finding the author of 
eleven of the most diabolical murders ever conceived, 
I shall place in the hands of my superior, the presi- 
dent of the Health Board, all the facts at my com- 
mand concerning them, and also my resignation.’* 
Pausing for a moment the speaker suddenly burst 
out : 

God knows, Leland, I have done what I thought 
was my duty in the matter ! But I cannot bear to 
stand helpless, impotent, and see this horrible 
slaughter continue under my very eyes !’* 

Stirred by the words of the physician, Leland sat 
silently for a few seconds, then ejaculated : 

‘‘ Eleven !’* 

Yes.** 

So the six men who died in the lodging house of 
small pox, J:he bookseller, and the Chatham Square 
pawnbroker, all—?’* 

There is no doubt of it. In the lodging house 
case, of course, the inoculation of one man sufficed 
for the rest.’* 

No clues, then, have developed ?’* 

None, except in the case of the Jew, where there 
may be a slight one. In his delirium at the reception 
hospital he talked incoherently of a man, a French- 
man, who entered his shop and choked him into 
insensibility. When he recovered the stranger had 
gone. He hadn’t stolen anything. The Jew was 
inoculated behind the ear,** 


DETECTIVE KEAPER. 


145 


But Captain Mandeville is no Frenchman.” 

“ I did not tell you, Leland,” returned the Doctor, 
'‘of the severe blow to that theory given by the chief 
of the Liverpool police. The Superintendent at my 
request cabled to him asking about the ‘Bride of 
Plymouth ’ and her captain. The reply was that no 
such vessel as the ‘ Bride of Plymouth,’ nor such a 
man as Mandeville, was ever known there. Nor had 
any vessel within a score of years taken gold t6 
Australia.” 

“ Then how can the facts given in Captain Rogers’s 
diary be explained ? Are they false ? What in- 
terest would the old man have in making such a false 
record ? And you know. Doctor, how accurately the 
entry I showed you coincides in all respects touched 
on with the letters written by Captain Mandeville to 
his victims. The tattooing on the tramp ‘ Michi- 
gan’s ’ arm, his having once been a sailor, Jenkins’ 
or Barrett’s recollections of the sea, and of a past 
life — why, this is the kind of evidence, cumulative 
and corroborative, upon which the existence of 
worlds has been demonstrated !” 

“ All that I have considered,” replied Dr. Jollier. 
“ I have given every advantage to the circumstances 
favoring the theory we at first adopted — that a ship 
named the ‘ Bride of Plymouth,’ manned by American 
•sailors, but with an English captain, Mandeville, 
sailed some twenty odd years ago from Liverpool ; 
she carried gold , coin and was bound for Australia ; 
there was a mutiny, or something of the kind ; at 
any rate, the English captain was badly treated ; 
now, insane as he must be, he is carrying out his 


146 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


terrible revenge ; has done so already on his chief 
'mate, the boatswain, carpenter, and others. This 
theory, I say, I have given every advantage, gone over 
it time and time again ; have repeatedly changed 
about the hypothetical parts. Each new result has 
been to make it stronger. Yet here comes a cable- 
gram which destroys everything.*' 

Could the cable be wrong 

I have thought of that possibility also. I have 
made inquiries which have convinced me of the 
genuineness of the message. The Chief of Police of 
Liverpool, who has a reputation of being a very care- 
ful and accurate man, undoubtedly sent it.** 

What view then do you hold ?** desperately asked 
Leland. I 

I am incapable of holding any,** said the chief. 
‘^If it was not for the fiendishness of this work, it 
would bear the palm for mystery. In none of the 
recent cases have I been able to find previous his- 
tory calculated to shed any light upon their connec- 
tion with their slayer.*’ 

There was a knock on the door and before anyone 
could say Come in,” the tow head of a small boy 
was thrust through the partially opened door. 

‘‘Mr. Reaper is here, Dr. Jollier,** shrilly an- 
nounced the boy. 

“ Send him in,** quoth the Doctor ; then, turning 
to Leland, said rapidly, in a low tone : “ This is 
about the last string to my bow. Reaper is a detec- 
tive-sergeant and he’s been detailed to this office 
under my orders.” 

Detective Reaper did not belong to the French 


BETECTIYE REAPER. 


147 


type of sleuths, very long, thin, dried up men with 
carbuncle eyes and long, hawk-like noses ; neither 
was he of the class of unravelers of mystery encoun- 
tered in five-cent literature — individuals who strut 
about with upturned coat collars and ever and anon 
cast dark, deep looks over their left shoulders. No, 
indeed ! He was a well-dressed, clean-shaven, jolly- 
faced gentleman with a development of stomach 
that indicated good victualling. A checked pattern 
cutaway, tightly buttoned, gracefully enveloped the 
main portion of his frame, while his nether limbs 
were encased in well-fitting trousers of dark hue, 
which terminated at patent leather shoes. A slight 
bit of waistcoat, of modest design, and a few links 
of a gold watch chain, were visible. His linen was 
immaculate, and the corollary to his collar with 
turned edges was a blue-black silk scarf in which 
was carelessly thrust a diamond pin. This pin, it 
might incidentally be remarked, was the bait that in 
the detective's career liad sent many nimble-fin- 
gered ones to prison. Any one, even a thief, might 
be excused for mistaking this round-faced, twinkling- 
eyed, jovial personage for a successful Wall Street 
broker, or a happy-go-lucky commercial traveler. 
Nor was all this jollity assumed on the one hand ; 
on the other. Detective Reaper was not merely a 
laughing and eating animal. He was accounted, in 
cases where much brain was required, one of the 
best men at the Central Office. He had been em- 
ployed there about a dozen years, and was probably 
something under forty. 

Hat in hand, his lightish hair, almost unnoticeably 


148 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


Streaked with gray, parted in the middle (the pre- 
vailing style), Detective Reaper advanced into Dr. 
Jollier’s office. 

“ A fine day, Chief !” sung out the visitor cheerily, 
shaking hands with the physician. 

So it is ; and I’m surprised that you aren’t where 
you belong this afternoon — in the window of the 
Calumet or Union League.” 

Ha ! ha !” laughed the detective. They must 
miss me up there ; but I drop in on ’em once in a 
while !” 

Let me introduce Arthur Leland of the Trumpet 
to you, Reaper,” said Dr. Jollier. 

Don’t need it, I guess,” responded the jovial one, 
grasping the journalist’s hand. Mr. Leland was a 
Headquarters reporter for a while, I believe ; and 
occasionally he wrote some pretty things about me, 
too.” 

“Yes,” admitted Leland, smilingly, “I was 
stationed up here some time ago and used to meet 
you quite frequently, professionally and otherwise.” 

The detective selected a stout rocking-chair, placed 
his hat on the floor alongside, elegantly lifted his 
coat tails so as not to crease them, and sat down. 

“It’s a rule I have,” he observed, gazing cheer- 
fully at the others, “ never to stand when I can sit ; 
that is, to save all my energy for the time when it 
shall be needed. It is often needed.” 

“My doctrine, too,” said Dr. Jollier. “Now, as 
the tradesmen say, to get to business. Leland 
knows as much about this matter we’re to discuss 
as I do ; in fact, he did some valuable work in the 


DETECTIVE REAPER. 


149 


case. You, Reaper, are, I suppose, a man with as 
wide an experience as any detective in the country ; 
wider experience than that of ninety-nine hun- 
dredths ; yet I think you'll hear something this after- 
noon that you never heard before, and I hope you> 
or any other man, may never have to hear the like 
again. It is now going on two months since the 
thing began. As I told Leland just before you 
came in, unless something satisfactory is discovered 
within a fortnight I shall resign my place." 

“ Does it involve murder ?” gravely asked the 
detective, taking a notebook from his pocket. 

Yes, and more. Let me begin at the very be- 
ginning and tell minutely and in the order of occur- 
rence everything that has happened. Where Leland 
had personal connection with the events he will tell 
that first hand, in the proper place ; he may also 
correct me if I make any mistake," 

With such a preface Dr. Jollier commenced the 
shuddering recital. Detective Reaper, with the clos- 
est attention visible upon his countenance, listened, 
and took profuse notes, rarely interrupting to ask a 
vital question. 

The Doctor told how the beggar Michigan " had 
been mysteriously taken down with a disease which 
was diagnosed as Asiatic cholera ; what he had done 
last before being attacked ; how impossible it was 
to trace the source of the man's illness which very 
shortly killed him ; the other particulars in the 
mendicant's case. The conversation Banker George 
Barrett had had with Dr. Jollier, his dim recollec- 
tions, and the letter from Captain Mandeville " in- 


150 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLEJ. 


forming the banker of his impending death, its ful- 
fillment, the suspicions of the physician, how he got 
possession of the body, and finally discovered that a 
scientific demon had injected a quantity of anthrax 
bacteria in the unfortunate man’s neck — these things 
were next recounted. Then Leland took up the 
strain by telling of his visit to the Massachusetts sea 
town and what old Captain Rogers had in his diary 
concerning the Bride of Plymouth.” After the 
detective had made an abstract of the entry, Leland 
continued with the circumstances surrounding the 
demise of Sergeant Phillips of the Tenderloin Police 
Station ; how he managed to get one of the Mande- 
ville notes from the dying man’s pocket. This, as 
he had the one addressed to George Barrett, the 
detective copied. Dr. Jollier followed with the 
cause of the sergeant’s death, an injection of glanders 
bacteria : apparently Phillips was the carpenter, 
James Hicks, of the Bride of Plymouth,” yet, ac- 
cording to all the information that could be gotten, 
Phillips was not born within sight of water nor ever 
sailed on it. 

I may be able to give some enlightenment on 
that point,” quietly remarked Detective Reaper. 
“ Phillips was a friend of mine. Years ago we were 
patrolmen together. When I first knew him he, had 
just got on the force ; bought his appointment, every- 
body knew. He came somewhere from the South ; 
New Orleans, I think. But he had only been there 
a few months. We became very intimate ; police- 
men always are, anyway. On more than one occa- 
sion Phillips referee! to a bad deed in the past he had 


DETECTITE HEAPER. 


151 


been a party to, the mistreatment of some man. He 
never would tell me all the particulars, but he always 
seemed to regret the deed. I never tried to find out 
the whole story.’' 

Dr. Jollier and Leland looked at each other. The 
latter exclaimed : 

“You see, Doctor, there is another corroboration 
of our original theory !” 

“ Yes,” assented the other, briefly, while the detec- 
tive looked somewhat puzzled. 

“ Never mind this ‘ corroboration ’ now Reaper,” 
said the chief; “you’ll understand it when you 
hear all.” 

The Doctor went on to tell of the message asking 
information concerning the “ Bride of Plymouth ” 
cabled to the Liverpool authorities, and the answer. 
The sleuth asked many questions about the message 
and its reply. 

Coming to the epidemic of the past week, the phy- 
sician related the circumstances of the various cases. 

“ And now,” he concluded, “ you have as exact and 
detailed knowledge of these occurrences as Leland 
or I. Neither of us has missed a point in the telling 
as far as I know. Very early in the progress of 
events, in fact, just after the death of George Bar- 
rett, we deduced a rather elaborate theory. The sub- 
sequent happenings, with one prominent exception, 
have gone to support this hypothesis. Even now you 
must have formed some idea of your own upon the 
subject ; at least you have a first impression. It 
might be worth while comparing it with our view.” 

“Well,” returned Detective Reaper, thoughtfully^ 


f 

152 CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 

pocketing his notebook filled with the mystic signs 
of stenographic writing, on a matter of such im- 
portance it would be ridiculous for me to have any 
sort of a settled opinion without considerable think- 
ing. I should want to sleep on it. Moreover, it is a 
practise of mine never to enter upon a case when I 
am ignorant in any of its details. Through my 
experience with various poisoning cases I have 
become quite a chemist in this way ; but my knowl- 
edge of bacteria is very small ; I must study it in 
your department for several days. I can, of course, 
give you my opinion now, but I won't promise that 
by to-morrow morning it won't be diametrically 
changed. For tliat matter, I have changed my 
opinion seven times in a week." 

Accordingly the detective proceeded with an 
exposition of the theory he had formulated. His 
hearers sat amazed. When he had finished. Dr. 
Jollier said : 

Reaper, you've saved us the trouble of telling our 
idea. It's no different. But how do you reconcile 
that cable dispatch with the other facts ? That is 
what makes it such a gigantic puzzle to me." 

The sleuth drew forth a handsomely embossed 
leather cigarette case, took out a brown paper cylinder 
of the Spanish style, rerolled and lighted it, then 
deliberately replied : 

‘‘ There has never been a recorded instance of a 
forged or substituted cablegram. That is true. At 
the same time, we must consider the possibilities. 
In sending the initial message to the cable office, in 
transmission, going through the hands of several 


DETECTIVE REAPER. 


153 


operators, in its reception, and otherwise, there were 
chances of tampering. Likewise with the reply. 
Sometimes I have an instinctive belief that a certain 
side of a case is right, despite strong evidence favor- 
ing another view — as now. So, while I do not say 
the cablegram is not genuine, yet it does not disturb 
in the least my present idea of things. At any rate, 
I shall thoroughly investigate that point.” 

“ Then I suppose,” said Dr. Jollier, that you have 
nothing immediate to suggest ?” 

‘‘ Oh, yes !” 

What ?” 

“ Advertise !” 

That sounds enigmatical.” 

‘‘Ha! ha!” laughed Detective Reaper. “It’s 
one of the simplest of moves. I’ll just write out a 
little advertisment that’ll explain itself.” 

He did so, and handed it to Dr. Jollier, who 
audibly read it thus : 

“ ‘ Bride of Plymouth !’ Information Wanted ! 
A large estate having been willed to Tobias 
Jenkins, last known of as mate on the ‘ Bride of 
Plymouth,’ from Liverpool to Melbourne, the under- 
signed, being executor of such estate, hereby offers 
a reward of $300 for information satisfactorily estab- 
lishing that the aforesaid Jenkins is either alive or 
dead. Applicants for this reward must call at my 
office. No. 132X Second Avenue, from 10 to 12 
every Wednesday and Saturday morning, for ten 
weeks. Josephus Jenkins.” 


154 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


What about that address ?” asked Leland. 

That’s all right,” responded the detective. It’s 
a house I have the use of whenever I want it. 
There’s a professional friend of mine who’ll change 
the largest room into a lawyer’s office, and I can stick 
a sign in tlie window, * Josephus Jenkins, Attorney 
and Counsellor-at-law.’ Of course, we don’t know 
who this will bring ; at least it’ll do no harm. But 
it’s more than once I’ve caught rascals by advertising 
for them. A sort of irresistible curiosity is aroused 
when they see a properly worded paragraph ; even 
though they suspect a trap they’ll answer it. Then, 
we may get some genuine information.” 

It was now fast getting dark and the three men 
got up to end the conference. 

“ By-the-by,” remarked Detective Reaper to the 
chief, “ the talk this afternoon has explained an odd 
affair. Before daylight one morning several weeks 
ago I helped some one carry a coffin with a corpse in 
it into a house not far from here.” 

Ah !”■ ejaculated Dr. Jollier, then you were that 
drunken fellow I gave a dollar to ! It speaks well 
for your professional discretion that with the suspic- 
ions you must have had you did not take any steps 
to ascertain the ins and outs of that night’s work.” 

Well, Doctor,” was the quizzical reply, had it 
been any one but yourself I don’t know what I might 
not have done.” 

In three of the prominent metropolitan journals 
the next morning appeared the Bride of Plymouth! 
Information Wanted !” advertisement. In due time 
several hundred thousand people read it. 


EPISODE OE THE SECOND AVENUE HOUSE. 155 


CHAPTER XIX. 

EPISODE OF THE SECOND AVENUE HOUSE. 

Lower Second Avenue, at the time we speak of, 
was in a highly interesting transitory state. It had 
been twenty-five years before a fashionable and 
exclusive locality for the rich. With the growth of 
the city the newer arrivals in the domain of gold 
blessed other spots to the west and further uptown 
with their abodes, so that gradually there were left 
only the conservative old families, with names,’' to 
sustain the failing prestige of the street. When 
later the river of misery called the East Side over- 
flowed its banks and swept north, it by chance 
swung around this locality for a couple of dozen 
blocks, then continued its course, leaving unpolluted 
a sort of social island. But the few solid residents 
left didn’t like this idea of a misery enclosed island; 
therefore, albeit reluctantly, they packed their linen 
and silver, and drove over to Fifth Avenue, or else- 
where. For a considerable while after the hegira 
the Spirit of the Avenue seemed to remain and^ act 
to prevent encroachment from all sides. 

At last a humble apothecary crept in, then a pro- 
fane butcher ; a saloon keeper and an undertaker 
were natural consequents. An enterprising Hun- 
garian conceived the idea of renting one of the state- 
ly mansions and starting a cafe ; he did so, with 
eminent success. Other Hungarian caf6s were es- 


156 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLU. 


tablished ; in the warm months each had a little vine 
embowered garden in front for the delectation of the 
customers, who would therein sit and sip their cool- 
ing lager or wine. The gardens imparted a pictur- 
esque and semi-foreign look to the street. Some 
lawyers, mostly Hebrews ones, also came in and 
opened their offices in basements. Notwithstanding 
all of which — druggist, butcher, saloon keeper, cafe 
keeper, lawyer — the Avenue retained to some extent 
its air of decorum and refinement. Its smooth 
asphalted street surface seemed almost to be the 
object of delicate avoidment on the part of 
drivers of beer wagons and even the ragman ap- 
peared to lower his tones when he ventured on its 
genteel pavements. At night the winking gas lamps 
illuminated only a quiet scene and cast playful 
shadows on the dignified fronts of the old houses, 
while as from a distance the incessant low hum of 
the city penetrated to the listener’s ears. 

Number 132X, where Detective Reaper’s apoc- 
ryphal character, Josephus Jenkins, was supposed 
to live, confessed to a sturdy brown stone front 
set back with a row of other dwellings some dozen 
yards from the pavement. That it belonged to 
another day could be told from the largeness and 
massiveness of everything. The outer door was of 
solid oak, three or four inches thick, plainly carved, 
and swung on the heaviest of iron hinges. It v/as 
like a castle door. The hall was long, spacious and 
mosaic floored. The drawing-room, extending 
through the house, in which many a gay ball and 
party had been doubtless given, was a magnificent 


EPISODE OF THE SECOND AVENUE HOUSE. 157 


apartment filled with costly furniture, handsomely 
carpeted, the walls hung with not unpraiseworthy 
works of art, and its high ceiling bearing the pleas- 
ing imprint of a decorator’s imagination. Thus, un- 
tenanted, it had been the whim of the owner to leave 
the old mansion, just as it was in bygone times. 
Detective Reaper, however, in return for a valuable 
service, received the latch key of the house with the 
privilege of living in it indefinitely or using it as 
he chose, with the sole condition that he would dis- 
place none of the furnishing. Although the detec- 
tive did not care to live in it, he did often find the 
mansion of service in various ways. As at present. 

It was the first morning named in the advertise- 
ment for calling on ‘‘Josephus Jenkins.” Crisp was 
the air and sunshiny the morning. The front half 
of the drawing room of the house was partitioned off 
by portieres for the occasion. The former furniture 
had been replaced wdth a bookcase stuffed with legal 
tomes, a roll-top w^riting desk, a circular table, a 
rusty haircloth sofa, a second-hand safe, and a num- 
ber of stiff-backed office chairs. It had been origin- 
ally intended that the detective should play the 
role of the lawyer, but upon consideration it was 
thought best that he should be secreted behind the 
portieres for any emergency. Dr. Jollier consented 
to take the part while Leland assumed the minor 
r&le of nephew and clerk. 

Ten o’clock struck from a neighboring church 
steeple. A minute or so thereafter some one pulled 
vigorously on the bell rope. Clerk Leland answered 
the summons in his shirt sleeves, A wrinkled, be- 


158 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


spectacled old woman, taller than the average, 
dressed in faded black, one hand carrying an old 
reticule and the other clutching a slip on which was 
printed the advertisement, stood before the door. 
In quavering tones she asked if this ** was Lawyer 
Jenkins’s office, and being affirmatively answered, 
said she came in response to his published want. 
She was ushered in and being given a seat, began to 
absentmindedly gaze about the apartment. The 
pseudo lawyer recalled her with a brisk : 

Well, ma’am, I presume you have come here to 
earn that $300 reward ?” 

Yes,” mumbled the old woman. 

Then you may go right ahead and tell me all you 
know. You needn’t mind my nephew.” 

“ When’ll I get the money ?’ 

‘‘ As soon as you give me the information I 
want.” 

“ I’m pretty hungry now,” returned the visitor, 
wiping her nose on a blue cotton handkerchief, and 
I’d like to get a bite first.” 

“ My clerk will bring in something from a restau- 
rant.” 

‘‘ No,’ somewhat querulously answered the old 
creature, I always eat at home.” 

At this juncture. Detective Reaper burst into the 
room with uproarious laughter, and, to the extreme 
astonishment of lawyer and clerk, snatched bonnet 
and wig and spectacles from the ancient caller, re- 
vealing the partially bald pate, mobile features 
(painted somewhat, to be sure) and shrewd eyes, of 
a veritable man ! 


EPISODE OF THE SECOND AVENUE HOUSE. 159 


Ho ! ho ! ho !” roared the unmasker, “ This is 
rich ! Taylor, you're the best old woman I ever saw. 
But I caught your voice at last !" 

Confused and angry, and looking very ridiculous 
in his incomplete costume, Taylor stood for a mo- 
ment ; then recovered from his chagrin and joined 
in the merriment of his associate. Dr. Jollier and 
Leland quickly understood how matters were, and 
all four laughed till their sides ached. 

It seems that Taylor, another Headquarters sleuth, 
had seen the odd advertisement and having various 
suspicions of it, determined on a personal investiga- 
tion. So he assumed his excellent disguise and 
sallied forth. He was sparring for time when 
exposure came. Reaper good humoredly asked him 
to keep any more like himself away. Detective 
Taylor arranged his disturbed female garb, and 
shaking hands all around departed. 

In a quarter of an hour Caller No. 2 came along. 
He proved to be the representative of a detective 
agency and offered to take charge of the case " for 
the reward. Shortly after he had been dismissed a 
stockily built man, with the hard look of a convict, 
appeared. His face did not belie him, for, as he at 
last managed to explain himself, with a good many 
mysterious nods and winks, he understood by the 
advertisement that the permanent absence of some 
individual was desired, and he wanted the job. He 
was undeceived and allowed to go unmolested. 
Reaper recognized him as a desperate criminal whose 
portrait was not missing from the Rogues' Gallery. 
Another interval elapsed and then the postman 


160 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


brought two letters for Josephus Jenkins/’ Both 
were the work of professional begging letter writers 
and ingenuously hinted that a portion of the reward 
would save the large families of the writers from 
death by starvation. Towards ii o’clock a wild- 
eyed, lean young man entered the house. He said 
he needed just $300 to perfect a flying machine that 
would revolutionize present methods of transporta- 
tion. The young man had brought an armful of 
papers and plans with him, and was only with diffi- 
culty persuaded he had come to the wrong place. 

‘‘ Well,” remarked Dr. Jollier when the door closed 
behind him, ‘‘ I wonder how many more such callers 
we’re going to have. There is at least variety in 
them.” 

‘‘ Yes,” said Leland, “ they can all claim the dis- 
tinction of being queer one way or another.” 

The minutes slipped away until it was a quarter 
of twelve. Expecting no more visitors that da}’' the 
three men were about to go to luncheon together, 
when the door bell tinkled hesitatingly. The pseudo 
clerk threw off his coat which he had put on and 
went to answer the bell, while Dr. Jollier again 
seated himself at his desk and Detective Reaper 
dodged behind the portieres. 

Something there was about the newcomer that 
made Leland take an involuntary inventory of his 
appearance. He was a bent, white-haired old man 
and carried a heavy walking stick with a curved 
handle. A long and profuse white beard and bushy, 
snowy eyebrows almost hid the parchment-like skin 
of his face. His eyes were invisible behind a pair of 


Episode op the second avenue house. 161 


exaggerated green sun-goggles. When erect he was 
probably of medium height ; his age seemed the 
downhill side of sixty. The visible dress of this 
antique figure consisted of a large, thick-belted over- 
coat, worn doe-skin trousers, an immense pair of 
cloth and rubber buckle overshoes, and an ancient 
bell top silk hat with the nape mostly brushed the 
wrong way. 

‘‘Young sir,’* said the old man, in a thin cracked 
voice, peering up at Leland, “ is this the office of 
Josephus Jenkins ?” 

“ It is ; and I’m his clerk. Mr. Jenkins will see 
you right away.” 

Leaning on his stick the old man somewhat labor- 
iously followed his usher into the office and dropped 
into the first chair he came to. 

“ My name is Hezekiah Barnett,” piped the old 
fellow. 

“ Yes. You come in answer to my advertisment ?’' 

“ My hearing is poor.” 

“ Did — you — come — in — answer — to — my — adver- 
tisement ?” 

“ Yaas, oh, yaas. That is it. I want the reward.” 

The visitor solemnly nodded his head several 
times, as if to emphasize his acquiescence. 

“ Then you know something about this relative of 
mine — Tobias Jenkins ?” 

“ Yaas, oh, yaas.” 

Again several solemn nods. 

“ Where do you live ?” 

“ In Brooklyn with my sister’s folks. They don’t 


162 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


treat me as they ought to, but I’ll leave ’em soon’s I 
get this money.” 

“ Well, Mr. Barnett, let’s hear what you know.” 

“ The money ?” 

‘‘As soon as you earn it.” 

“Eh? What?” 

“You’ll get it as soon as you earn it, I said.” 

“ Yaas. Well, Mister Jenkins, as I’m hard of 
hearing we might be nearer each other.” 

“ All right,” was the prompt reply, “ we’ll sit to- 
gether at this round table.” 

Accordingly the old man rose and took a chair 
drawn up to the table, facing the portieres. Dr. Jol- 
lier sat within arm’s length to his right, and Leland, 
wishing to improve the opportunity for close obser- 
vation, took a seat on the old man’s left, under pre- 
tense that he was to make a stenographic report of 
tlie conversation. 

Detective Reaper from his hiding place had been 
closely studying the visitor, and was puzzled by 
him. 

Dr. Jollier thought either the man might know 
something or was a mild crank. 

Leland had a vague feeling there was more to the 
visitor than appeared. 

“ Y’see, it’s like this,” began Hezekiah Barnett in 
his piping voice. “My sister Jane kept a boarding 
house. That was five years ago and before she got 
a legacy from the death of an uncle in Maine. The 
legacy wasn’t very much, and when it was turned 
into hard money it was still less. Anyway, it was 
enough, so the boarding house was given up. Well, 


EPISODE OF THE SECOND AVENUE HOUSE. 163 


that’s no account here. While my sister was keep- 
ing the boarding house, having nothing particular to 
do, I got to knowing some of the boarders pretty 
well. One of ’em was a sea captain. He had plenty 
of money and drank his toddy three times a day. 
Sister said he was shiftless. Well, this — what was I 
saying ?” 

You were telling about a sea captain,” said Dr. 
Jollier, getting interested. What was his name ?” 

“ His name ? Yaas, it was Smith. Captain Mat- 
thew Smith.” 

‘‘ Describe him.” 

Well, he wasn’t an oldish man, or a youngish. 
He had a beard and was middling fat.” 

“ And he knew Tobias Jenkins ?” 

“ Yaas, he said they were shipmates. Whenever he 
drank more than five glasses of toddy at once he told 
me the whole story — ” 

The old fellow stopped for a moment to draw a 
snuff box from his pocket and take a good sized 
pinch. Leland then happened to notice, in an opti- 
cal excursion, that the visitor’s old-fashioned silk 
hat had a circular hole the size of a pencil near the 
top of the crown, as if burned with a hot iron. 

Well,” resumed Hezekiah Barnett, ^‘Captain 
Smith sailed along with Tobias Jenkins on this 
‘ Bride of Plymouth.’ She went from Liverpool to 
Melbourne.” 

“ Who was her captain ?” 

** It don’t come to me now.” 

‘‘Was it an Englishman, Mandeville?” 


164 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 




Barnett looked up rather quickly into Dr. Jollier’s 
face, scratched his head, and replied : 

'‘Yaas. That was him. The ‘ Bride ’ was filled 
with carpets, furniture and such.” 

Carpets ! Furniture! Why, wasn’t her cargo 
gold coin under the disguise of kegs of nails ?” 

Who told ye ?” asked the old man, curiously. 

“ Never mind. But didn’t this Captain Smith tell 
you the ship carried gold ?” 

‘‘ No,” was the placid answer. 

Just then Dr. Jollier uttered a slight exclamation, 
as he felt a sharp prick in his left leg near the 
knee. 

‘‘Only a rheumatic twinge, 1 guess,” he replied 
pleasantly, to the “ Hey ?” of the visitor and the look 
of inquiry of Leland. 

“Tell us the rest,” said the physician, rubbing his 
leg. 

“Yaas. The ‘Bride of Plymouth’ took the car- 
pets and furniture to Melbourne. Each man got 
paid off, but shipped again. On the home voyage 
they were shipwrecked. Both Mandeville and Jen- 
kins were drowned.” 

It is doubtful which of the three listeners of these 
extraordinary statements was the most astonished. 

“ Haven’t you got the story twisted ?” at length 
exclaimed Dr. Jollier. 

“Well, Mr. Jenkins,” plaintively piped the old 
man, “ it’s so long ago that I may have forgot a 
little. But Smith alius made a point of the drowning 
of Mandeville and the mate,” 


EPISODE OF THE SECOND AVENUE HOUSE. 165 


“Smith lied to you. Mandeville, at least, I should 
say is alive at this moment/' 

“ Yaas. Maybe he is, maybe he is/' 

“ What else did Smith tell you ? Anything about 
a mutiny or the mistreatment of Captain Mande- 
ville ?" 

“ Not as I remember/' 

“ Captain Smith, then, was at your sister's board- 
ing house five years ago. Do you know where he 
went or where he is now ?” 

Hezekiah Barnetttook another pinch of snuff before 
he answered : 

“Yaas. He said to me in private, when he went 
away, that he was going to marry a wife and settle 
down in a house he bought up in Yonkers.” 

“ Good !” . simultaneously exclaimed the lawyer 
and clerk. 

“ And the re — ” 

“Yes, yes, Mr. Barnett,” said Dr. Jollier, “ you'll 
get the reward as soon as I can find Captain Smith 
and obtain satisfactorily from him the evidence I 
advertised for. You may hear from me in a few 
days.” 

“Yaas. Well, Mr. Jenkins, I did expect to get 
paid right off, so’s I could leave my sister. But it’ll 
be right if the money comes in a week or two.” 

Leland at the request of his pseudo employer took 
down the caller's address. 

Laboriously then the old man rose to his feet with 
the aid of his stick. He had only unbuttoned his 
heavy overcoat instead of removing it during the 
interview. Refastening this garment, putting on his 


166 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


bell top silk hat, and slightly changing the position 
of his goggles on his nose, the visitor was ready to 
depart. 

'' Good-morning, Mr. Barnett.” 

'' Good-morning, sir. I hope to see you again.” 

There was something in the thin voice that caused 
Dr. Jollier to turn sharply around and say : 

'' Don't you think you'll see me again ?” 

‘‘ I hope to, sir, yaas ; but this is such a queer 
world ; one moment a man's alive, and the next — 
No offense, Mister Jenkins.” 

Mumbling something unintelligible, the old fellow 
was escorted to the door, and Leland saw him amble 
down the street. 

The three investigators sat down together at the 
table, Detective Reaper taking the seat just vacated 
by the caller. 

The Doctor and the reporter both looked at the 
detective. He smiled and said : 

“ I know ; you want me to say what I think of the 
old codger. Offhand I should say he told a straight 
story ; seems honest. Now, if we can find the self- 
styled Captain Smith, liar that he is, why — Hello ! 
What's this ?” 

The detective had observed a fact which the other 
two had not — that the visitor kept his hands beneath 
the table during the entire interview. What they 
were there for he could not ascertain from his hid- 
ing place, but now casually feeling about his hands 
encountered on a sort of little shelf under the cir- 
cular table a tiny white metal something, which he 
held up to view. 


WHAT BEFELL. 


167 


Leland and the detective gcized at it stupidly. 

But Dr. Samuel Jollier turned white as falling 
snow. His heart seemed to freeze within him. 

The tiny metal something was one of the minutest 
syringes used in surgery. It was, Dr. Jollier with 
lightning-like intuition comprehended, the tool which 
had a short time before pricked his leg and doubtless 
injected innumerable deadly agents of some awful 
contagious disease. 

Hezekiah Barnett was none other than the vile 
murderer, Captain Mandeville ! 


CHAPTER XX. 

WHAT BEFELL. 

Next moment and the physician’s visage had 
revealed the truth to his companions. 

Had a thunderbolt fallen from the serene sky, split 
the house in twain, and snatched the breath from Dr. 
Jollier, all in an instant of time, their shock, unutter- 
able astonishment and anguish could not have been 
greater. 

It was blinding, stunning. 

Many burning descriptions have been written of 
the feelings of men doomed to leave forever the sun- 
shine of this earth by legal execution, the gallows, 
the guillotine, the garrote, the headsman’s axe, by 
the flying wheels of ponderous express trains, by 


168 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


subtle poisons, by the regulated explosion of powder 
or dynamite, by the assassin’s knife in the dark, by 
the dreadful tortures of the Inquisition. 

What must be the feelings of a man sentenced to 
death by means as certain, inevitable as the motions 
of the planets, secret and invisible as the agents of 
decay, rapid as the shutting of an eye, or slow, if 
need be, as the most lingering of pains ? Agony 
sublime ! To know that ten thousand, ten million, 
infinitesimal but magically powerful organisms are 
silently, incessantl}^ speedily, surely, preparing the 
body for the grave ! To be unaware wliich one in 
the deadly calendar of communicable diseases it is, 
but to know that medicine is as water and the skill 
of physicians a mockery ! To know not when the 
fearful end shall come ! Torments of apprehension 
unspeakable ! 

Well might the brave soul of Dr. Jollier shudder, 
his cheek grow pale. 

The succeeding events transpired to their actors 
as if in some wild dream. 

Detective Reaper no sooner understood the full 
dread import of his discovery than he recognized 
wherein his duty lay. He could do nothing by stay- 
ing. There was only one thing for him to do — 
apprehend the murderer, if possible. Without a 
word he grasped his hat and dashed out of the house, 
mentally cursing himself for his stupidity, his 
criminal stupidity that would cost a life, the life, 
moreover, of a beloved superior and friend : he 
cursed himself for having suggested the whole 
miserable business, that he had not pierced the 


WHAT BEFELL, 


169 


murderer’s disguise, that he whose life-work it was 
to deal with such things had been so easily duped, 
that he should have allowed the man to depart 
unfollowed ; and the penalty for all this ! Bitter 
indeed were the detective’s self-reproaches. 

Leland, vaguely feeling that he too had contrib- 
uted in some way to the calamity, sat crushed, his 
bowed head supported by his hands. 

Dr. Jollier was the first to recover himself. He 
had been struck hard, very hard. But his strong 
spirit refused to be vanquished. Like the Old 
Guard of Napoleon he could die — but not surren- 
der ! At least he died while performing his duty. 
What better time does an honest man want ? 

Leland,” said the physician, gently, I don’t 
think my — my passing away will be immediate. If 
you can find a cab so as to save time we’ll take this 
(pointing to the syringe which Detective Reaper had 
dropped on the table) to the laboratory, and ascertain 
tlie disease. While you are out I shall write a little 
something in the way of a will and a line or two to 
my wife and my folks, my poor old father and 
^ mother in the country. If by chance I’m not alive 
when you return — why, good-by — and God bless 
you, my boy !” 

Staggering to his feet Leland wrung the Doctor’s 
hand, while a choking sob threatened to burst forth 
from his silent lips. 

He hastened out of the house, nerving himself for 
what was in hand. In the bright sunshine of the 
opposite pavement a gamin strolling along was mer- 
rily whistling. It seemed like the worst sacrilege ! 


170 


CAPTAIN MANDEYILL15. 


It was a profanation, too, for the sun to shine ! The 
world should have been shrouded in blackest dark- 
ness. 

The young man recollected that several cab drivers 
were wont to keep their vehicles standing on a street 
corner some six blocks up the Avenue. The distance 
was between four hundred and fifty and five hundred 
yards. At college Leland had been something of a 
sprinter and had won an occasional prize in field day 
races. What there was at stake then was nothing 
compared to now. He felt a shadow of a hope that 
perhaps the doctors of the Bacteriological Division, 
if their chief was brought to them in time, might 
somehow miraculously save him. Therefore he ran 
as he never ran before. He was not encumbered by 
his overcoat and sped along swiftly and lightly over 
the smooth pavement. His powers of locomotion 
seemed limitless, his legs tireless ; he felt as though 
he could run all day with never wearying energy. 
The occasional pedestrians stopped and with open- 
mouthed wonder saw the young man dart past them, 
clenched fists in front of him, chest thrown out, 
mouth shut, just as a professional on a cinder track. 
When half the fleet journey had been made a police- 
man was like to have interrupted it, but on second 
thought, and seeing no one in pursuit and that the 
runner was well dressed, he did not do so, presuming 
a doctor was required. 

Exhausted from his killing gait Leland approached 
the cab stand. Too breathless to speak he climbed 
into the driver's seat of one of the vehicles and pointed 
in the direction from which he had come. The jehu 


WHAT BEFELL, 


171 


understood and sharply whipped up his horse. The 
return trip was quickly made. 

Brave Dr. Jollier was writing the last of his fare- 
well notes when the cab dashed up to the mansion. 
He gathered up the sheets he had written, stuffed 
them in his pocket, and carrying in his hand, care- 
fully wrapped in a bit of paper, the fatal hypodermic 
syringe, hastened to the vehicle. Leland leaped to 
the ground and both got inside. 

Where to ?” 

‘‘Corner of Bleecker and Mulberry. Five dollars 
if you’re there in five minutes !” 

The cabby needed no other encouragement. In- 
cidentally, from the destination, he shrewdly guessed 
something important connected with Police Head- 
quarters was on the tapis. He lashed his horse 
until the animal paced off as rapid a gait as could 
be expected from his kind and on the smoother 
stretches made such excellent time that the specta- 
tors thought it was a runaway. Going over Belgian 
blocks, however, was not like traveling on asphalt 
and the vehicle rattled and jolted prodigiously. 
Leland was reminded of a certain similar but not so 
melancholy drive he had had with the supposedly 
intoxicated banker for a companion. It was not 
long after that drive was finished that George Bar- 
rett had died. In this case would it be likewise? 

Although the jehu did not perform the impossible 
feat of going twelve squares in five minutes he did so 
well that when the coupe stopped in front of the 
building in which was located the bacteriological 


172 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


laboratory, Leland gave him the promised reward 
and told him to wait. 

It was something after i o’clock and the bacter- 
iologists were taking their ease and also digesting 
their lunches with the aid of cigars. 

Clemence,’' said the corpulent Dr. Wilbur lazily, 

some one's coming upstairs.*' 

Sacre ! Yes! It’s an outrage,” returned the 
assistant. “ I will tell you in confidence, Doctor, I 
think there is a plot to overwork us.” 

Dr. Jollier and Leland burst into the room. The 
astonished bacteriologists noticed that the latter was 
quite agitated but that the chief bore his accustomed 
look of impassiveness. 

“There’s no time for explanation, Wilbur,” said 
Dr. Jollier, calmly. “ If you or Clemence will find 
out right away what kind of germs this syringe con- 
tains, ril be obliged.” 

Dr. Wilbur nodded his head silently and took the 
package which contained the tiny instrument. He 
cautiously unrolled it on a glass plate, then burned 
the paper in the coal stove that heated the laboratory. 
Assuring himself that the syringe was sufficiently 
moist so that there was no chance of the air being 
contaminated with floating germs, he forced the 
minute piston as far as it would go, using forceps in 
the handling. The result was that a fraction of a 
drop of thin, colorless liquid appeared on the end of 
the nozzle. The ordinary method then would have 
been to pregnate with a speck of this liquid the 
culture medium contents of a test tube and place the 
tube in an oven where the heat of the human body 


WHAT HEFELt. 


173 


Was maintained, until, after several hours, the 
bacilli had bred many generations and so vastly 
increased that their study and classification would 
be a comparatively easy matter. However, as 
greater dispatch was necessary, the only thing to be 
done was to revive them well before submitting them 
to microscopic examination. So Dr. Wilbur, lightly 
touching with the end of a platinum wire, previously 
purified in the flame of an alcohol lamp, the frac- 
tional drop, by similar touching transferred several 
thousand of the organisms to the center of a piece 
of glass a half inch square. This was placed in the 
oven or incubator for a few minutes. Then Dr 
Wilbur and his assistant busied themselves to clean 
and arrange for the test the larger of two micro- 
scopes, one with a power of i,ooo diameters. 

Dr. Jollier had meanwhile dropped into a chair, 
and he quietly watched the swift work of the bac- 
teriologists. He was reconciled to what fate might 
bring him. Perhaps his feelings partook something 
of the nature of that final calm with which all stout- 
hearted men face death. Leland anxiously gazed 
upon his features, dreading with an awful fear the 
developments of the next few moments. 

Dr. Wilbur realized something serious had hap- 
pened. In the light of the cultures the chief had 
been having made and his reticence concerning them, 
Dr. Wilbur pieced out for himself the shadow of 
the truth. He thought Leland might have, in the 
course of Dr. Jollier's private experiments, been ac- 
cidentally inoculated with some doubtful disease. 
Dr. Clemence, perhaps, made various mental guesses. 


174 


CAPTAIN MANDKVILLB. 


He perhaps also believed that if an accident had oc- 
curred to any one it was to Leland, judging from the 
young man's agitation. 

Lying on a small dissecting slab in a window 
alcove, surrounded by a litter of bottles, test-tubes, 
knives, pincers and other instruments, was the dead 
body of a guinea pig. The little creature had been 
tied backwards by its four feet to the slab. There 
was a longitudinal slit extending from the chin all 
the way down the stomach. On one side the flap of 
skin was thrown over, exposing a general area of 
unnatural inflammation, the work of myriads of 
bacilli. This excessively red, in portions blue black, 
flesh became a nauseating sight to Leland, within 
whose line of vision the body was. He moved his 
chair to avoid the spectacle. 

Dr. Wilbur took out his watch, saw that nearly 
five minutes had elapsed since the culture had been 
put in the oven, and opened the door of that recep- 
tacle. Deftly taking the square of glass between his 
thumb and first finger he carried it to the micro- 
scope. 

Detective Reaper, when he left the Second Avenue 
house, ran down to the corner below and eagerly 
gazed up and down the cross street for sight of a 
stoop-shouldered, white bearded old man. No such 
person was to be seen, only a grocer’s boy with a 
basket of vegetables, and a veiled young woman. 
The detective hurried to the street above. Some 
distance away towards the East River an old fel- 


WHAT BEFELL. 


m 


low with a stick was hobbling along. The sleuth 
bounded after him with fierce joy and hope, caught 
up to him, grasped his coat collar in a vise-like grip. 
Alas ! The old man squirmed around in frightened 
surprise and Reaper saw it was a mistake. This one 
had a different cut beard than had the pseudo 
Hezekiah Barnett ; the detective made assurance 
doubly sure with a moderate pull and then not 
waiting to apologize for the liberty hastened away, 
leaving the old man standing on the pavement in 
blank astonishment. 

The detective caught sight of a policeman (the 
same one, by the way, who had come near stopping 
Leland’s race) and rushed up to him. Had he seen 
an old man, white haired, long white beard, etc., etc., 
etc.? Yes, certainly. An old gentleman of that de- 
scription had asked the officer some few minutes ago 
to be directed to a cab stand ; upon being told there 
was one up the Avenue had started off in that direc- 
tion. Thither the detective hurried with new hope. 
The solitary jehu found at the stand, however, said 
that there had been no customers in the last hour ex- 
cept a young man, who was recognizable to the de- 
tective as Leland. Reaper made certain the cabby 
was telling the truth by saying if any other than the 
aforesaid young man liad taken a vehicle within the 
last fifteen minutes and had given a bonus to have 
that fact concealed, he, Reaper, would double the 
bonus to know it. The driver did not respond to 
this infallible test. 

Evidently the murderer was a master in all the 
small as well as the large details of craftiness, which 


176 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLU. 


was only excelled by his audacity and dexterity of 
disguise and action. He had apparently calculated 
upon being shadowed and doubtless had arranged 
some subtle plan of eluding his pursuer, but even 
wlien no one followed him he was none the less 
awake to his situation, and had cast this precaution- 
ary time-saving barrier (the pretended carriage es- 
cape) behind him. The actual mode of his com- 
plete and rapid disappearance in the hampered guise 
of an infirm old gentleman during broad daylight 
and in a semi-deserted locality was something which 
deserved the appellation of mystery. Had it been 
elsewhere in the great city, the roaring streets all 
about thronged with a moving, miscellaneous crowd, 
it would have been easy of explanation how one 
could be so quickly swallowed up. 

A final resource suggested itself to the detective ; 
he would get assistance ; spread the police drag-net. 
Accordingly he walked into a drug store telephone 
station and called up the Inspector in charge of the 
Detective Bureau. Ten minutes after the brief con- 
versation that ensued, this general alarm was tele- 
graphed from Headquarters to the thirty-three 
police stations in the metropolis : 

‘‘Confidential Order No. 56. — The Superintendent 
of Police desires that through the reserves and 
roundsmen every patrolman on post in your precinct 
be immediately notified to look out for a man of this 
description : Age, about sixty ; stoop shouldered ; 
white hair and beard ; bushy white eyebrows ; green 
goggles ; height, about five feet eleven inches ; 
dress, heavy black overcoat with belt ; old fashioned 


WHAT BEFELL. 


177 


bell top high hat ; buckle cloth and rubber over- 
shoes ; heav}^, dark colored walking stick, curved 
handle. This is probably a disguise. Was last seen 
about I p. M. to-day at Second Avenue and Eleventh 
Street. Wanted for serious crimes.’* 

Within half an hour three thousand or thereabouts 
policemen, from the extremity of the Battery to the 
scantily populated outskirt of Kingsbridge eleven 
miles above, were striving to apprehend the in- 
dividual described in the above quoted order. The 
youngest probationers on the force understood the 
capture of this man was likely to mean promotion, 
and exerted themselves accordingly, while the vet- 
erans were not less vigilant. The result was that a 
dozen arrests were made in as many precincts in two 
hours ; but in all the cases the prisoners were dis- 
charged by the station house sergeants after question- 
ing. Without doubt it was an uncomfortable after- 
noon for all old men who had the misfortune to be 
dressed a certain way and were out on the street. 

After communicating with the Inspector, Detective 
Reaper returned with many misgivings to the man- 
sion where he had left Dr. Jollier and Leiand. He 
was afraid to think what might have happened in his 
absence. He surmised that Leiand had taken the 
Doctor to his home. Yes, they had gone ; but a brief 
note said, to the bacteriological laboratory. The 
detective hastened there wondering. 

:f: % * 4s 

He arrived in time to stand in the doorway of the 
laboratory and see Dr, Wilbur withdraw his eyes 


178 


OAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


from the microscope, silently allow his assistant to 
take a look, to hear them whisper together a moment, 
then to see the bacteriologist turn towards Dr. Jol- 
lier and Leland, and say : 

This was originally a tuberculosis culture and a 
very thriving one ; but the bacilli are dead — died 
several hours ago, probably for lack of nourish- 
ment.” 

Dr, Jollier was saved ! The bacilli were dead, 
harmless ! Twenty syringefuls of such liquid were 
no more than so much water ! 

Hooray ! Hooray ! Hooray !” shouted Detective 
Reaper, in a burst of unrestrained, boyish joy, dash- 
ing forward, seizing both of the Doctor’s hands and 
attempting to dislocate his arms by a rapid up and 
down movement. Then he slapped Leland a mighty 
slap on the back, huzzaed again, and encircling Dr. 
Wilbur’s fat waist attempted to boisterously execute 
with him a waltz across the floor. 

At first Dr. Clemence, perhaps thinking a madman 
was loose, started to discreetly retire into the office 
with the intention of barricading the door, but the 
sight of his corpulent superior in the throes of an 
involuntary dance with the jolly faced stranger was 
too much for his sense of humor, and, doubling him- 
self up at every spasm, he laughed heartily and loud 
until he grew black in the face. 

Thus ridiculously enough passed a momentous 
crisis and occasion. It is often so. 

Dr. Jollier was compelled to smile through the 
minute tears that glistened in the corners of his eyes, 
while Leland, not feeling sure whether he had bet- 


A TRUTHFUL CABLEGRAM. 


179 


ter laugh or do a supposedly less manly thing, com- 
promised by going into the back room and swearing 
at the guniea pigs in the German language. Mis- 
taking his anathemas for a promise of food they ran 
about in their cages and squeaked very loudly, add- 
ing to the general hubbub. 

Ruffled and angry Dr. Wilbur at length tore him- 
self loose from his jocund assailant. The jolly 
detective apologized profusely, deprecated his youth- 
ful spirits, and behaved so absurdly penitent, in 
short, that Dr. Wilbur’s good humor could not fail 
to be restored and forgiveness was extended. 

The whole bacteriological department and the 
three visitors shortly went out together, arm in arm, 
to get a drink. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

A TRUTHFUL CABLEGRAM. 

In someway unexplained, probably from the drop- 
ping of a chance word, one of the reporters at Police 
Headquarters got the impression that the chief of 
the Contagious Diseases Division had, in the course 
of his work fighting the small-pox epidemic in Mul- 
berry Street, been attacked by the disease and was 
in a precarious condition. This information was 
obtained towards i o’clock in the morning. It was 
imparted to all the Headquarters scribes who be- 


180 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


longed to the discoverer’s combination,” or associ- 
ation of co-workers. 

Tliis was the version printed in one of the jour- 
nals : 

Early this morning there was a report at Police 
Headquarters tiiat Dr. Samuel Jollier, Chief of the 
Contagious Diseases Division, is lying seriously ill 
of small-pox at his residence. No. i68 Waverly Place. 
He contracted the disease, it is said, while attending 
to the stamping out of the epidemic in the Mul- 
berry Bend lodging house where six men died last 
week. Although the best medical skill is in attend- 
ance it is thought very probable that he cannot re- 
cover. 

‘‘Dr. Jollier was appointed Chief of the Division 
of Contagious Diseases several years ago, and by his 
energy and knowledge has brought his department 
to the unequaled position it now occupies in the 
health systems of large cities here and abroad. In 
administrative ability, power to cope with new and 
strange conditions, and a thorough acquaintance 
with every detail, Dr. Jollier stands foremost. 
Many epidemics that threatened tlie city have been 
warded off by his indefatigable labors. 

“ He was born in this State about thirty-five years 
ago, went to college and then studied medicine. He 
began in the Health Department as an emergency 
physician and worked his way up through successive 
steps to the office of chief. He is married. 

“ Personally Dr. Jollier is one of the pleasantest of 
men and has always had the good-will of all his asso- 
ciates, whether his superiors or subordinates. Lately 


A TRUTHFUL CABLEGRAM. 


181 


his friends have remarked that he seemed to be doing 
too much for his health.'^ 

The unlucky newsgatherers who sent to their 
offices this report were severely censured when its 
baselessness was established. 

Frequently it so occurs in the newspaper world 
(and all tlie world, for that matter) tliat some one 
blunders along until he is on the very verge of a 
great discovery, then, by accident, or otherwise, is 
led away ; or is blinded by an extraneous non-essen- 
tial ; or is satisfied with a substitute. 

Nothing came of the general alarm for the appre- 
hension of Hezekiah Barnett, alias Captain Mande- 
ville. That superior murderer, in the disguise the 
three hunters of him saw him, had utterly vanished. 

Another conference between the three was held in 
Dr. Jollier's office. The melodramatic episode of the 
Second Avenue mansion had served for one thing to 
tighten their bond of friendship. Moreover, each 
felt it a duty as he never had before to capture the 
monstrous slaughterer at large ; each recorded a 
secret vow to do the utmost in that direction. 

Detective Reaper showed the others a personal 
cablegram he had received from a Liverpool Vidocq 
concerning the Bride of Plymouth." The request 
and its reply Reaper managed to have transmitted 
over another cable line than the one over which had 

come the message to Superintendent B . This 

was the dispatch : 


‘‘John Reaper, Central Office Detective, New 


182 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


York. — The ^ Bride of Plymouth ' was an American 
vessel, Captain Job Higgins, chartered by Parker & 
Parker, now Parker & Smith, bankers, to take 
;j^25,ooo in gold to Melbourne. She sailed on Dec. 
lo, 1869. Ernest Mandeville became captain. Was 
never spoken after the twentieth day out and was 
supposed to be lost. Q. Revere. 

Whatever doubts may have been entertained by 
any of the trio regarding the old theory were dissi- 
pated by this cable. They were now unanimous in 
one belief and could work together harmoniously, 
which was an advantage. 

The anomalous position of the case was fully 
realized by the investigators. Here were a series of 
atrocious crimes, murders, being committed by a 
not to be accounted for fiend of science who had 
been seen and talked to face to face by the represen- 
tatives of Justice : his original impetus to his work 
of death, his past history to some extent, that of 
some of his victims, the facts of the stolen sovereign- 
laden ship, the manner of the frightful deeds, indeed 
the whole concatenation of events, — all were clear 
and simple as a demonstrated algebraic problem. 
Had the assassin written out the entire story it could 
not have been much more lucid or continuous than 
the naturally deduced theory of the investigators. 
Truly it was an anomalous case and the like of it 
not to be found in the common annals of crimin- 
ality. 

Little mystery, except in details, as how came 
about the forgery of the cablegram, was left. All 


A SILK HAT. 


183 


was plain sailing. Captain Mandeville was wanted, 
lie was the unknown — known; rather — mathematical 
quantity, the X. 

Yet under what guise was this X to be looked for, 
how found ? 

Alas, there is no rule-book for ascertaining such 
information ! 


CHAPTER XXII. 

A SILK HAT. 

“ Dear Arthur : — A few of papa's friends have 
been invited to dine with us next Monday evening, 
and I want you to come. It's been an age anyway 
since you've called, and if you don't make an appear- 
ance then — I may have to discipline you severely ! 
You can't plead ‘ work ' as an excuse, because I know 
Monday is your day of rest. If you wish to you 
may wear the title of Professor for the evening ’ 
Your own, 

Maud Sartoris. 

P, S. Be early.” 

This note in delicate chirography on a scented 
sheet of thick light blue paper Arthur Leland read in 
his rooms with quite an agreeable little flutter of joy. 
It is one of the advantages of being young, that the 
emotions change easily, and sorrow, while for the 
time sharper than to accustomed years, soon flies 


184 


CAPTAIN MANDEYILL®. 


away and is replaced with gladness. No calamity 
has serious effect on youth. 

Sitting down at his desk Leland briefly replied, 

Of course Til come,’* then, being in good spirits 
and the hour appropriate, he went out to join at din- 
ner his Bohemian friends in South Fifth Avenue, who 
had lately seen little of him. The same jolly crew, 
with their lively sallies of sometimes passable wit and 
gayety not wholly due to wine, welcomed him. It 
was a very merry evening and some remarked that he 
was particularly bright. 

In the way such things have Monday evening came 
around, the hour of seven, and found standing on the 
door step of the Sartoris residence our friend Leland, 
attired with all masculine adornments as beseemed 
a young man in his case. He was among the first 
arrivals and after divesting himself of his overcoat 
and etceteras went into the drawing-room to shake 
hands with Professor Sartoris and greet his inam- 
orata. 

She was the central figure of a little group of per- 
sons near the head of the room and with the aid of 
a plump and pleasing matron, a friend of the family, 
was acting as hostess. She wore a tasteful gown of 
light-colored material, not a little be-ribboned and 
be-flounced, decorously cut in the neck ; her fluffy 
flaxen-brown hair was prettily arranged in classic 
fashion ; there was a touch of rosy color in either 
cheek ; the blue eyes sparkled brightly. No wonder 
that Leland was entranced at the sight of the charm- 
ing creature. By her side, erect, commanding, dis- 
tinguished-looking, his long silvery curly locks and 


A SILK HAT. 


185 


clean cut, smooth shaven face, and powerful but 
benevolent eyes, forming a rare picture, stood the 
Professor. It was a fine sight, everybody remarked, 
to see Professor Ralph Sartoris and his beautiful 
daughter thus standing together. 

Good evening, Mr. Leland,” said the hostess, 
sweetly, holding out her shapely little hand to the 
happy young man. ‘^You have come to be almost 
unknown here — hasn’t he, papa ?” 

Yes !” heartily replied the Professor ; then added, 
with a twinkle in his eye : If he only knew what 
concern his absence has caused in a certain quarter !” 

‘‘ Why, papa !” protested Miss Sartoris, blushing. 

^‘It’s all right, my dear,’* returned the Professor, 
imperturably. No one heard that except Mrs. 
Kensington. You haven’t been introduced, Lelarid, 
to Mrs. Kensington, an old friend of ours, who has 
been so kind as to come here this evening and share 
the hostesship with my daughter.” 

Leland bowed to the lady. 

Ah !” she chirruped, I am charmed to see such 
a good looking — don’t blush ! — live young man. As 
I was telling Maud, I was afraid we would be quite 
overwhelmed with — ahem ! — fossils. Now you’ll 
help us out, won’t you, Mr. Leland ?” 

I’ll — I’ll try,” stammered the young man, observ- 
ing that the Professor had not heard the disparag- 
ing remark. 

‘‘Yes,” resumed the vivacious matron, “I always 
say the young men are the hope of the nation and 
dinner parties,” 


186 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


Two functions !’' said Leland, recovering him- 
self. “Tm sure you’re very kind I” 

An interruption was occasioned by the entrance 
of three or four guests, dignified looking men, who 
had brought their wives with them. 

Some of these were professors in Columbia Col- 
lege. It was, as Professor Sartoris himself said, a 
sort of informal family party. The arrival of half a 
dozen more guests completed the gathering. A few 
are worth describing. There was Dr. Cook, a short, 
shaggy-haired man, who, despite that he taught 
Evidences of Christianity ” and such, had plenty of 
humor in him ; Professor Emmons, the eminent 
botanist, a tall, well dressed person with a very frank, 
inquiring countenance ; Prof. Van Benschoten, 
medium sized, moustached, and with a furrowed 
brow caused by mathematical problems ; Mr. Per- 
cival, a middle-aged ex-Broadway merchant who 
had miraculously quitted his chase after gold and 
attached himself to metaphysics and was an admirer 
of Prof. Sartoris ; Mr. Alexander, a chubby-faced 
but solemn man of law ; Mr. Evarts, a quiet in- 
dividual whose claim to fame lay in his having been 
a member of an Arctic expedition party ; Dr. Davis, a 
florid champion of theosophy ; Prof. Thompson, 
occupant of the chair of ancient languages ; and two 
or three others. Of the ladies were the wives of the 
first three named, a blooming daughter of Mr. Per- 
cival, ditto of Dr. Davis, and Mrs. Thompson. Al- 
together it was an interesting assemblage. The 
admirers of small-talk, however, would not have much 
favored it. 


A 8ILK HAt. 


187 


Dinner was announced. Each gentleman being 
ingeniously provided with a lady by shifting around 
the wives and daughters, the company quite cheer- 
fully proceeded to the dining-room. Prof. Sartoris 
gallantly escorted Mrs. Emmons, a witty little woman 
with sparkling black eyes, to the table ; Leland, of 
course, took in the hostess ; while Prof. Van 
Benschoten had the not undesirable prospect of 
having the furrows removed at least temporarily from 
his brow by the vivacious Mrs. Kensington. The 
seating at the single long table was entirely at the 
will of the guests as they came in, everything else 
being likewise informal. The caterer who had 
charge of the affair attended to all the details, from 
providing mild decoration in the way of hot-house 
palms to cigars ; so there was no hitch in the 
programme and all proceeded smoothly and with a 
minimum of trouble to the entertainers. 

AVith the vinous accompaniment to the entree the 
least loquacious of the diners began to thaw out and 
the talk became quite spirited. Dr. Cook gave 
examples of his humor, another perpetrated one of 
those the French call bon mots, Mrs. Kensington 
kept her neighbors in a state of admiration at her 
sallies, Mr. Evarts began to describe life within the 
Arctic circle, and Leland recounted a modest anec- 
dote that tickled the midriffs of a couple of grave pro- 
fessors and set them off in hearty laughter. Prof. 
Sartoris himself told a good natured story and other- 
wise entertained the compan}’^, beaming impartially 
on all. Miss Maud’s greatest difficulty was in ward- 


188 


CAPTAIN MANDEViLLi:. 


ing off compliments — a struggle in which her escort 
refused to help her ! 

Thus pleasantly the dinner progressed and the 
acme of good feeling was reached when Prof* 
Thompson cracked an excellent classic joke, one 
that had never been heard in his class room. It was 
almost two hours before the coffee was brought on 
and all that was said in that time would make a 
profitable book ; indeed, such a thing might be done, 
by the employment, say, of unseen stenographers, 
who could take down the speech in dialoguic form. 
However, many people might stop dining out if they 
knew their conversation was to S'e reported to the 
world. But that is an idea and problem for publish- 
ers to struggle with. 

The ladies adjourned to the parlor and left the 
men to smoke, which they almost unanimously did. 
Some stronger spirits were produced, too, for those 
who preferred them. About this time, when the table 
grew a little quieter, it began to be noticed that 
something confidential was being discussed at the 
lower end, where sat Prof. Davis, who, being a 
Scotchman, as well as theosophist, had before him a 
generous bottle of the potent liquor manufactured 
in his native land. Dr. Davis finally rose and hold- 
ing at arm’s length his filled glass, his rubicund coun- 
tenance expressing general satisfaction, said : 

“ Gentlemen, I haven’t got up to say, like many on 
similar occasions, that I do not propose to make a 
speech, because I do. [Laughter.] But my speech 
will be cut almost as short as the mental distance to 


A SILK HAT. 


189 


the moon. [Dubious laughter, not knowing what the 
mental distance is.] Our distinguished host, Prof. 
Sartoris, has not invited me to act as toastmaster, 
nor to respond to a toast, nor to say anything. So I 
stand here on my own responsibility and shoe 
leather. [A frown noted.] In brief, I have a pleas- 
ant bit of news to impart. To relieve your suspense, 
it relates to our host. [Applause.] Although I am 
almost a total stranger in his palace of speculation, 
yet I am proud to call myself his friend and rejoice 
in his work. Prof. Sartoris, gentlemen, I have the 
pleasure of announcing, is about to send to his pub- 
lishers the labor of three years, manuscript of a 
work on Metaphysics, the pioneer of its kind in 
America, and which, I am told, contains many new 
propositions and suggestions, such as will cause it to 
be read by all thinking [men in this country and 
abroad and wherever that species exists. [Long 
continued applause and cries of ^ Hear ! Hear.’] 
Gentlemen, I have the honor to propose this toast, 
‘ Prof. Sartoris and The Book ; in the name of Phil- 
osophy and his friends, long life to both !’ ” 

The toast was drunk standing. Immediately 
there were calls for the Professor. He rose and 
said : 

‘‘My friends, I little expected to-night that such a 
staunch comrade as Dr. Davis would loose my poor 
cat from its bag. [Laughter.] But he has done it in 
such a flattering manner, that I almost wish I had a 
dozen cats — he could liberate them all so gracefully ! 


190 


CAPTAIN MANDKVILLE. 


[Laughter and applause.] A disadvantage of this 
procedure is that the owner of the feline is taken un- 
aware, especially when called upon to say some- 
thing to such a gathering as this. My haunting fear 
has been that some of my best friends might, when 
they saw what I had done, become estranged from 
me ; so I have endeavored tb keep my little secret as 
long as possible, and with it my friends. [Laugh- 
ter.] Now that it is out I can at least say there are 
not half the heresies in it that Dr. Davis’s remarks 
might lead one to imagine. Seriously, my friends, 

I thank you heartily for this expression of kindness, 
which is the more welcome because unexpected.” 

Amid a whirlwind of applause Professor Sartoris 
sat down. Several of his college confreres took oc- 
casion to personally congratulate him, while the 
conversation all about exclusively busied itself with 
the announcement of the Professor’s forthcoming 
work, one, which all realized, must be a worthy and 
lasting monument to its able author. Before joining 
the ladies, however, Professor Sartoris extracted from 
the assemblage a mild general promise of secrecy 
concerning the book. 

In the drawing-room a little entertainment was in 
progress. One of the young ladies. Miss Davis, was 
singing a Hindu song, which, though nobody knew 
it, recited the praises of the “ star-eyed ” inmates of 
a certain Rajah’s harem. Her father explained that 
a quondam Hindu guest of his, a theosophical con- 
vert, traveling in this country, had taught her the 
song. Then some one played an impromptu on the 


A SILK HAT. 


191 


piano. The company had scattered about somewhat. 
One party of professors and their wives made up a 
whist quota, a number of persons surrounded the 
host, who, judging from their visages, was not dis- 
coursing on a very abstruse theme ; Mrs. Kensington 
was playfully conversing with the Arctic explorer, and 
Leland was enjoying a corner tete-a-tete with his 
fiance. 

You men folks seemed to be having a lot of 
amusement after we left,” said she. 

“ Yes,” replied Leland. It was chiefly apprecia- 
tion, though, of something about your father. Dr. 
Davis made a bright speech and so did the Professor 
in reply.” 

Oh, I know ! Wasn't it something about papa's 
book ?” 

** Well, since you’ve guessed it the Professor’s in- 
junction to secrecy doesn't matter.” 

The girl laughed lightly and said : 

Oh, papa has no secrets from me, nor I from him. 
He has been writing the book for three or four years. 
When his college lectures haven't interfered he's 
sometimes worked in his library for whole days and 
nights, not even stopping for his meals. For the last 
two months he's been particularly busy finishing it. 
In a whole week I saw him only twice. I tell papa he 
shouldn't work so hard, but that's the only thing he 
won't mind me in. He says, ‘ Run away now, little 
girl ; let papa write !* ” 

‘‘ Have you ever see any of the manuscript ?” asked 
Leland, curiously. 

‘‘ Oh, yes ! papa read some of it to me and it was 


192 


CAPTAIN MANDEYILLE. 


splendid ! But you have to think hard to under- 
stand it. It’s more difficult to follow than Socrates’s 
dialogues.” 

Well,” laughed Leland, it must indeed be mat- 
ter difficult of comprehension. I had small doses of 
metaphysics in college ; the trouble with it was for 
me that it involved a rigorous constant building pro- 
cess ; just as Euclid’s twenty-fifth proposition is de- 
pendent on the first ; so if you didn’t understand 
and know three hundred pages of the text book 
thoroughly, the three hundred and first was mean- 
ingless, All knowledge may be said to be acquired 
and stored in this way, but there are some arts and 
sciences that seem excessively rigid and progres- 
sively constructive. Whose fault it is I’m sure I 
don’t know.” 

Perhaps,” was the reply, accompanied by a mis- 
chievous smile, this is a wise provision that the 
lazy and unworthy sha’n’t be able to get the benefits, 
but only those who have systematically and faith- 
fully studied and remembered. By the way, Arthur, 
to suggest a lighter subject, what do you think I’ve 
been doing lately ?” 

“ Writing verses, visiting the poor, learning to 
cook, sewing for charity, extending your acquaint- 
ance, studying Spanish, or trying to draw harmony 
from a violin,” glibly replied Leland. 

Guess once more.” 

“ Let’s see, what did I omit ? Is it painting ?” 

Yes. I ve fixed up a sort of a studio on the sec- 
ond floor. If you’ll come with me I’ll show you 


A SILK HAT. 


193 


what Tm trying to paint. Our absence won't be 
noticed." 

Leland accepted the invitation and followed his 
fiance to the studio, a small, cosy, well lighted apart- 
ment that offered a wide contrast to the great bare 
chambers, with their regulation contents of tin armor, 
rusty weapons of war and innumerable inanimate 
models of all kinds, of his professional artist friends. 
Two or three soft rugs of tasteful design lay on the 
polished wood floor, the wall paper was of light and 
cheerful pattern, the delicate lace window curtains 
were looped up with gay bands of red silk, an invit- 
ing divan with a purple and yellow flowered cover- 
ing stood crossways of a corner, and there were two 
bamboo chairs, each tied with ribbons. On the man- 
telpiece were a few photographs and decorative 
knick-knacks. Some etchings in big gilded frames 
hung on the walls. The painting paraphernalia con- 
sisted of a small table on which stood a vase full of 
violets and an old silk hat, a palette and brush that 
had been evidently quickly thrown down, and a fair- 
sized easel holding a strip of canvas. The canvas 
bore a not superlatively excellent, it must be con- 
fessed, likeness of the old-fashioned headgear. 

Behold !" exclaimed the hostess, laughingly, 
throwing open the studio door. Feast your eyes 
on this work of art ! It represents the toil of many 
hours." 

The young man’s eyes fell upon the canvas and 
then traveled over to the model for tlie painting, the 
silk hat. It was a bell top affair, well worn, dusty 
to a degree, tlie nape wrongly brushed, and about an 


194 


CAPTAIN MANDETILLE. 


inch from the top of the crown was a little round 
hole. 

Leland had seen that hat before. 

It came to him all in a flash. 

That was the identical hat Hezekiah Barnett had 
worn ! 

There could be no mistake. The recognition was 
absolute and correct in every particular. 

How came that relic of the dreadful murderer, 
only a few days after his last attempt at slaughter, 
in the house of Prof. Ralph Sartoris, serving as a 
model for his daughter ? How had it got there ? 
Was it possible that at last the capture of the ter- 
rible criminal was nigh ? Did the discovery por- 
tend harm in any way to loved ones ? 

These and a hundred other quick-darting conject- 
ures and sick fears passed through the young man’s 
brain in a moment’s time. He staggered, and leaned 
against the doorpost, with set, white face. 

“ Arthur ! What is the matter ? Are you ill ?” 
cried his alarmed companion, seizing his arm. 

No, no,” he muttered, in a low voice. A little 
dizziness. I’ll sit down for a short time.” 

She helped him to the divan and ran for a glass of 
water. 

When she returned, Leland had apparently re- 
covered. 

I’m sorry to have frightened you,” he said, apolo- 
getically. “ Now ril criticise your picture. Where 
did you find that old hat, by the way ?” 

‘‘Papa gave it to me,” replied the young woman. 


A SILK HAT. 


196 


innocently. It looks odd, doesn't it? — Why, you’re 
pale again !” 

Never mind me,” hastily answered Leland, look- 
ing in another direction. It’s only temporary.” 

He managed to soon descend to the drawing-room 
and taking Prof. Sartoris aside, whispered : 

“Professor, I must see you privately on an import- 
ant matter for a few minutes.” 

“ Hm,” said the Professor, looking surprised. “We 
will go into the library.” 

Being seated in the library, the door securely 
closed, Leland said : 

“ I will be brief. Maud asked me. Professor, a 
little, while ago to go upstairs and see her studio. 
I did so. I saw there on the table an old bell top 
silk hat, which, by certain means, I was able to un- 
questionably identify. Maud said you gave her the 
hat. Less than a week ago that hat was worn as 
part of a disguise by a most fiendish murderer, 
who is yet at large. You recognize the gravity of 
the matter.” 

“ Is that possible ?” exclaimed the Professor, lean- 
ing forward horrified. “ It is shocking ! A mur- 
derer, you say !” 

“ Yes ; many times a murderer,” 

“ Well, that sounds most incredible ! In explaining 
my possession of the hat I can be almost as brief as 
you were. Last Friday noon I happened to be the 
only person in the house. There came a ring at the 
door bell. I answered it. An old gentleman stood 
before me. As I recollect him, he was stoop-shoul- 
dered, had white hair and a white beard, goggles, 


196 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


and the hat you saw. He wore a long overcoat and 
cloth overshoes.'^ 

‘‘That’s the man !” cried Leland. 

The Professor resumed : 

“ He asked me if so-and-so — I forget the name — 
lived here. Of course I said no. Then he said he 
was tired and wanted to rest for a few minutes. I 
took him into the reception room and told him he 
was welcome to stay as long as he wished. I re- 
turned to my study. Half an hour later, going out 
in the hall, I saw the man had disappeared. I 
noticed his ol.d hat on the hat rack and seeing my 
second best silk article gone concluded he had made 
an accidental exchange. Then, sometime after, as I 
was busy writing, my daughter found the old hat 
and bringing it in asked me if she might have it to 
paint. I said yes, without looking up. I knew 
that as the old gentleman had wandered into my 
house by accident he would not be able to find it 
again ; so his hat was not to be returned. That is 
the whole circumstance.” 

Leland breathed a sigh of relief. 

“ The old gentleman did not approach you closely, 
did he, Professor ?” he asked. 

“Oh, not particularly. I did not notice carefully. 
Has that to do with — ?” 

“Yes. I might tell you all about this horrible 
murderer, Professor, but I would be betraying a con- 
fidence thereby and besides it would be useless. An 
experienced detective is now engaged in searching 
for him.” 

“Well, this is a truly remarkable occurrence,” said 


A SILK HAT. 


197 


Prcf. Sartoris, gravely. “ Whoever or whatever the 
man may be I hope he will be apprehended. Are 
the prospects of arresting him favorable ?** 

‘‘ I think it is an even chance,” returned Leland. 

He is more skillful and craftier, as well as more 
diabolical, than any enemy of society those interested 
in the case ever heard of. So far he has not made 
a single misstep or left a clue, although he had been 
most audacious both in his evil deeds and otherwise. 
It seems that his first crimes were committed for 
revenge, but after that he apparently merely grati- 
fied a lust for slaughter. My connection with the 
terrible business, which I heartily regret, vras a mat- 
ter of chance.” 

‘‘ From what you say it must indeed be a terrible 
affair,” said Prof. Sartoris. Perhaps I may con- 
sider myself fortunate that nothing happened to me 
Friday. But what do you think brought this fellow 
to my house ?” 

‘‘That is what has puzzled me. It is difficult to 
assign an object. Was that his way of changing his 
disguise ? It may be so. Or was it merely an 
impulse that led him in here ? Seeing no oppor- 
tunity for his damnable work he went away. Was 
there an overcoat on the rack ?” 

“Yes, mine,” said the Professor. 

“ Ah, there's another rub. If he was bent on 
changing his appearance, why did he not exchange 
overcoats also?” 

“ That does look strange.” 

“ At all events, Professor,” said Leland. “ I won’t 
trouble you any more with this matter. It will go 


198 


CAPTAIN MANDETILLE. 


into the proper hands. I — I don’t know just how 
to say it, but I felt awfully when I saw that indica- 
tion — and — and — Maud, you know, Professor, in the 
same house. It made me ill for a moment when I 
thought of the fearful possibilities. Perhaps it 
would be a good idea to caution the servants against 
admitting any one of the old man’s description. I 
wish I could stand on guard myself !” 

Leland,” quoth the old Professor, earnestly, tak- 
ing the young man’s hand, I believe you are a 
noble fellow ; you would indeed guard my daughter, 
and myself, too, I have no doubt, with your life. I 
am proud of such a prospective son-in-law, I will 
adopt your suggestions of precaution and as for what 
you have said about this matter, it shall remain a 
secret with me.” 

Just then Miss Maud rapped on the door and the 
conference was abruptly terminated with a meaning 
handshake. 

Why, papa,” exclaimed the pretty interrupter, 
“ we all thought you and Arthur were lost ! Some 
of our guests will be going in a few minutes. Do 
come down right away !” 

That night, when he had returned to his lodgings 
and turned into bed, Leland sleeplessly tossed 
about thinking of the rude shock with which the 
pleasantness of the dinner party had been lost to 
him. His mind was harrassed by a thousand extrav- 
agant fears. At last he slept, but to dream. Hez- 
ekiah Barnett, the stooping, infirm, piping-voiced 
fiend, appeared in the house of his loved one and 
with diabolical designs was creeping towards her 


LELAND AND THE DETECTIVE. 


199 


chamber — when Leland, strong as a wild bull, filled 
with mad fury, rushed at his throat and with a Her- 
culean blow knocked him backwards so that he fell 
to the bottom of the stairs with a terrible thud. 

The thud was occasioned, unfortunately, by Le- 
land’s falling out of bed ! 




CHAPTER XXIII. 

LELAND AND THE DETECTIVE. 

Arising at ii a. m. the next morning Leland took 
some lively punching bag exercise, a bed-room con- 
trivance, then had a brisk cold shower bath and rub- 
down, after which he leisurely dressed himself. He 
looked out of his study window and saw that snow, 
of the fleecy kind and unaccompanied with wind, was 
steadily falling. Long since the black curving foot- 
paths that gridironed Washington Square had been 
obliterated and there appeared almost a snow cov- 
ered plain sparsely marked with the gray trunks and 
branches of leafless trees, while the marble Arch 
seemed to lose its seriousness and solidity and be 
composed for the nonce of the airy descending ele- 
ment. The top of a maple tree was on a level with 
the window and perched on some of the branchlets, 
their wings drawn very closely about them, were a 
dozen or so sparrows. The snow accumulated until 
it was half as high as the sparrows’ bodies and then, 


200 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


suddenly chirruping, they flew away to find shelter 
under some house eave. If I were a sparrow,” 
thought Leknd, in a quaint reverie, my wants 
would surely be more simple, but — I am not a spar- 
row and thus breaking off he went out to break- 
fast. 

Noon found the young man carelessly reading a 
copy of the Trumpet in the Central Detective office, 
while waiting for John Reaper, who, the sergeant in 
cliarge said, was due to appear soon. A couple of 
detectives were lounging against a steam radiator, 
smoking and gossiping. One was a long-haired, 
slouchy fellow, a cross, his friends said, between a 
college football player and a comic paper poet. The 
other was a self-possessed individual of gentlemanly 
manner and subdued appearance. Nobody ever 
noticed him, which was of professional advantage. 
He was known among his associates as The Shrinkcr ; 
the first one as Baby. These two always worked 
together, and the journal reading public was well 
-acquainted with them under other names. 

“Well,” said The Shrinker, yawning, “I see Billy 
the Stuff got four-and-six for that last job of his.” 

“ So he did,” replied Baby. “ The Recorder’s got 
a prejudice against that sort of work. He always 
soaks it to, baggers.” 

“ Well, that’s pretty near right. I say, if you must 
be a crook, be one and take your chances of being 
nabbed ; but do only straight lifting and hurt nobody 
except in self-defense.” 

“Justvvhaf the Prince used to preach and practise, 


LELAND AND THE DETECTIVE. 


201 


And there isn’t a crook in America to-day that can 
hold a candle to him for safe work. He was a bird/' 
Oh, the devil! Baby. That’s what I don’t like 
about you ; you’re always praising the Prince. Who 
was he ? Nothing but a cowardly swindler and 
sneak thief ! He never did a decent job in his life. 
Now, if you’re talking about — ” 

“Yes! I know,” sarcastically interrupted the 
other. “ There never was a man like Hobo John. 
He was a beauty bright !” 

“ Baby,” said The Shrinker, solemnly, “ you’re my 
partner and I won’t quarrel over this matter with 
you. But I’ll gamble my last cent that if a vote was 
taken right in this office as to which was the best 
man at his trade, the Prince or Hobo John, the 
decision would be my way.” 

“I don’t know about that!” suddenly cried the 
desk sergeant, leaning forward on his elbows towards 
the two disputants. 

“There! Y’see ?” exclaimed Baby, triumphantly, 
while The Shrinker’s face fell. 

Leland, interested and amused, lay down his paper 
and lit a cigarette. The discussion was abruptly 
terminated, however, by a sharp telephone ring. 
The sergeant stepped up to the instrument. 

“ Hello ? — Yes. This is the Detective Bureau. — 
Who are you ? — One Hundred and Fourth Street 
Station ? Yes. All right. — A woman murdered, you 
say ? Well ! — All cut up and no clue, eh ? — All right, 
A couple of the boys will be up there in half an 
hour. — Good-by.” 

Turning to the detectives the sergeant said : 


202 


CAPTAIN MANDEYILLE. 


“ You heard about the racket. Seems to be a good 
case for you to distinguish yourselves in. Unless 
you get something you needn’t report, either of you, 
until to-morrow.” 

The sleuths silently departed. 

Just then Detective Reaper, rosy and smiling, 
bustled in. He greeted Leland gayly, nodded to the 
sergeant with a cheerful air, and rapidly read two 
letters that were in his mail-box. When he had 
finished Leland said : 

‘‘ If you can spare ten minutes. Reaper — ” 

“ Ten hours if you wish !” cried the other. ‘‘ Fact 
is I haven’t eaten yet ; was out until five o’clock this 
morning. Now there’s a quiet restaurant a few 
blocks from here, and we can both have a bite there 
and also our chat.” 

“Agreed; to all except the bite,” said Leland. 
“ I breakfasted some time ago, but I’ll have a tooth- 
pick with you.” 

Accordingly the two men made their way to the 
restaurant in question. They found an unoccupied 
table and Reaper, after having given his order, 
looked inquiringly at his companion. 

Leland therefore began to tell how in the Second 
Avenue mansion during the interview with the self- 
styled Hezekiah Barnett he had closely studied the 
caller’s appearance and attire and chanced to notice 
in the bell-top hat a small round hole in one side. 

“The devil !” exclaimed Detective Reaper, look- 
ing much mortified. “I didn’t see that liole.” 

“ Perhaps not said Leland, “ you couldn’t from 
where you were.” 


ICELAND AND THE DETECTIVE. 


203 


The young man continued witli his attendance at 
the dinner party at the house of Prof. Sartoris ; how 
a certain young lady (he didn’t say whom) had in- 
vited him to inspect her studio. 

At this point Detective Reaper became so absorbed 
in the narrative that he liberally sprinkled his steak 
with granulated sugar. 

Leland described with what feelings he recognized 
the headgear that was serving as a model as the one 
belonging to the fiendish slayer. He omitted no 
essential (to him) details and concluded with Prof. 
Sartoris’s explanation. 

Detective Reaper got up, stamped his right foot 
violently on the floor, and sat down. 

What’s the matter?” quoth Leland in astonish- 
ment. 

“Matter?” echoed the detective, in the accents of 
a pitying but indignant father considering the actions 
of a wayward son. “ Matter ? It is this : Why, in 
the name of the crying cannibals of the Society 
Islands, didn’t you grab that hat, borrow, beg, take, 
or steal it, immediately ?” 

“ Oh, you want to examine it ? I could see noth- 
ing peculiar about it. But it can be gotten easily 
enough this afternoon.” 

“ No, no, it’s too late,” mournfully responded the 
detective. “ If it had any marks of any kind they’ve 
been removed.” 

“ Removed ? By whom 

“ Anybody, everybody.” 

“ But I told you the hat was left there by Heze- 
kiah Barnett.'' 


204 : 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


Oil, that’s what this Professor of yours says !” 

‘"Reaper,” said Leland, flushing angrily, 1 
want to understand you. You are welcome to be as 
familiar with me as you please. But when it concerns 
a friend of mine like Prof. Sartoris I won’t hear the 
false and damnable insinuations of yourself or any 
other man !” 

“ My dear fellow,” said the detective, soothingly, 
“ you must pardon mcL, I am a dreadful ass. Every- 
body knows that. There’s no one else who could 
commit such reckless, stupid blunders as I. You 
are perfectly right. I will call for the hat this after- 
noon. Shake hands !” 

Leland was constrained to accept the invitation, 
though he did so grudgingly ; indeed, it was several 
days before he had fully forgiven the detective. 

Upon leaving the restaurant the two parted. De- 
tective Reaper going to the Professor’s, while Leland 
took a Broadway car for the Trumpet office. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

Bella’s report. 

‘‘So you’ve got bad news for me, Bella ?” 

The speaker was Detective Reaper, the time the 
succeeding Saturdav afternoon, the place a room in 
a little frequented tliird-rate family hotel in Eleventh 
Street, near Broadway. The one addressed was a 


BELLA^S REPORt. 


205 


plump, snapping eyed brunette of excellent figure, 
stylishly attired, and possessing feminine dash. She 
was probably the wrong side of thirty-five, though 
that was a secret her appearance by no means re- 
vealed. Previous to her marriage to an honest, 
slow-going but sincerely devoted owner of a cab 
establishment, she had been one of those much- 
abused-on-the-stage adventuresses. Naturally that 
calling brought her into not infrequent contact with 
the police. She indeed experienced a change of 
heart when she became the mistress of tlie aforesaid 
owner's house, and gave up her evil ways ; but after 
the glamor, etcetera, of a married life had worn 
away she yearned for at least some excitement. 
Therefore she went to the Superintendent of Police 
and frankly told him of her new situation and de- 
sire ; he congratulated her on her reconciliation to 
society and wish to assist Justice, and sent her to the 
Detective Bureau. A case was immediately given to 
her and ever since then, which was seven years ago, 
she had been voluntarily donating her occasional ser- 
vices to the Bureau. She had got quite fascinated 
with the work. 

‘‘Yes, brother," said Bella, in answer to Detective 
Reaper's question, taking off her veil and dropping 
into a chair. 

“Well, I just about expected it," said the detec- 
tive, dejectedly. “ You know I was on his track out 
of sight all the while you were working in sight 
and I couldn't find a pin’s head of evidence to show 
that he is other than he pretends to be — a good- 
natured, God-fearing, honest old fellow, who cares 


206 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLB. 


more for a book than a dinner any day. He told a 
straight story about that hat. Leland was right, as 
I said, and I am an ass, as I said, although at the 
time I was joking. The trouble with us detectives 
is we're too blamed suspicious. Especially myself. 
Think of all the time that’s been wasted on this mat- 
ter. Bella, sympathize with me !” 

Bella laughed a mellow laugh, crossed her well- 
shod little feet, and said : 

“ I’ll console you with your own maxim, That any 
one proved honest is one less to bother your head 
about ; eliminate your good characters and the single 
bad one will be left standing alone.” 

“Ah !” replied Detective Reaper, “ what good are 
maxims when you invent them yourself? None. 
But anyway you might tell me your adventures.” 

“All right,” said Bella promptly, “ I’ll do it — just 
as if I were writing a report for you. To begin : 
You sent for me last Tuesday night, didn’t you ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Well, then, you said there was a Prof. Ralph Sar- 
toris, living at No. — West Forty-third Street ; with 
his daughter, Maud, aged about twenty ; a professor 
in Columbia College, old, white-haired, but vigor- 
ous, and so on. He was possibly, you thought, a 
crazy man who has been trying to kill people by 
sticking poison into them through a syringe when 
they aren’t looking. If he was such, you believed 
he was leading, to some extent at least, a double life. 
Of course to find out about that a woman was neces- 
sary ; so you got me. Well, about nine o’clock the 
next morning I was stationed within eyesight of the 


BELLA^S REPORT. 


207 


house and saw the Professor come down the steps. 
As he walked across Fifth Avenue, my impression of 
him was just tlie same as your description, and you 
know with women impressions and intuitions are 
really worth something. If there was any criticism 
that I could possibly make it was that he walked 
too straight, his chest out too much and his head 
thrown back too far ; now that is all right in a 
soldier, fool or egotist ; in Prof. Sartoris — 

“Bella," solemnly interrupted the detective, 
“ don't give me your nonsensical notions, but get 
down to business." 

“ Yes, my dear, I will right away if you’ll only 
give me a chance ; don’t be cross. Well ! Having 
sized up the Professor I went out on another little 
job for one of the boys and got through by before 
3 o’clock, when the P. was due to leave the college. 
My plan was all arranged beforehand and it 
worked to perfection. At Madsion Avenue and 
Forty-third Street, the northeast corner, (you know 
how icy it was that day) what should happen but 
that I slipped and fell almost under the good Pro- 
fessor’s nose ! Don’t laugh. I had practised and 
knew I did it prettily. Of course I was gallantly 
helped to my feet. Alas ! My ankle, my delicate, 
slender, handsome, little right ankle, was strained !’’ 

“ Excuse me if I wipe away a tear," said the lis- 
tener. 

“Certainly, of course. It is a feeling subject. 
And what was to be done ? Where was I to go ? 
What was my address ? 

“ Alas ! and again alas ! I was a wealthy Mexican 


208 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILM. 


lady — Senorita Isabel Don Jervais — who had just 
arrived in town. My sixteen trunks were at the cus- 
tom house and I had hurried uptown to find an only 
quasi-friend, to whom I had a letter from the Ameri- 
can Consul at Mexico City ; his former schoolmate. 
Who was tills person ? Ah ! Yes ! Sartoris his 
name. Prof. Ralph Sartoris. ‘ A very happy coin- 
cidence, Mademoiselle .!’ exclaims my gallant helper. 
‘ I am Prof. Sartoris.' What joy for the poor, injured, 
lost Senorita Don Jervais !" 

Joy indeed.” 

Yes. And the Professor wished the Senorita to 
come to his house ; but, no ; she insisted on a hotel ; 
lyouldn't for worlds burden his household ; other 
reasons, too. At length he called a passing cab 
(belonging to the Senorita's husband, by the way) 
and Professor and Senorita went to the Waldorf. 
There a fine suite of rooms on the third floor 
was engaged and the Senorita compelled the Pro- 
fessor to visit her apartments and be properly 
thanked. Senorita threw off her rich sealskin cloak 
and hat and veil and let tiie Professor freely gaze upon 
her beauty. Cold man ! he asked about the Mexican 
Consul ; said he didn’t just remember him. Senorita 
soon changed the subject. Rang for some cham- 
pagne. Her delicate little ankle, by the wa}^, had 
recovered. Well, the champagne came. Upon the 
utmost urging the Professor drank a glassful. The 
Senorita then drew her chair quite close to him. 
Suddenly she became hysterical.” 

Ah !” said tlie detective, earnestly, that wasn’t 
right. She should have been slower.” 


Bella’s report. 


209 


Oh, yes, it was ! When the Senorita was in 
another business Rule No. i in her method was to 
employ on any and every occasion mild hysteria. 
When doubtful, don't know what to do next, have a 
hard case, or a suspicious case, mild hysteria is 
always in place. At any rate it is never harmful. 
Well, the Senorita had this attack, fell upon the Pro- 
fessor's neck and wept copiously ; indeed she came 
near sobbing her little heart out. So lonesome in a 
strange land ! How kind and noble of the dear 
man to help her as he did ! How fortunate the 
meeting ! 

‘‘ Heart of ice ! The Professor gently disengaged 
himself and rang for a chambermaid. Then he 
slipped away. The next day, of course, the Senorita 
called at the Professor’s house to apologize for her 
silly weakness and the embarrassment she had given 
him. Our Southern emotions are so warm ! She 
now looked lovelier than ever and was perhaps a 
little coy. She finally induced him to take her to the 
theatre that evening. At the little supper that fol- 
lowed in a private room in a Broadway cafe the 
Senorita tried a new tack, became real serious and 
womanly and surprised and delighted the Professor 
by her knowledge of philosophy and so forth. He 
became enthusiastic himself, talked much on the 
subject. She began to talk of love in the abstract. 
He suddenly became silent. To be brief, the 
Senorita labored with him in every possible way. 
You know what that means.” 

The detective tapped one side of his nose with his 
forefinger to intimate that he did. 


210 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


Well, in spite of all the Professor was as polite 
and gentlemanly as ever, and nothing else. He was 
even gallant, but no more. He didn’t seem to 
understand the Senorita, though she made some 
hints so broad that it would take a yardstick to 
measure them. Was there ever such a man of ice 
and metaphysics, capable of resisting the charms of 
the Senorita Isabel Don Jervais ? He was the first the 
Senorita ever met. Well, he left the Senorita in her 
hotel at I o’clock the next morning. She was rather 
discouraged, but determined on a final trial. She 
made it last night ; had him up in her apartments. 
Alas, it was fruitless as the others. Just what took 
place the Senorita hesitates to relate ; she merely 
hints that St. Anthony’s temptation was a small cir- 
cumstance to it.” 

The speaker’s airy manner suddenly changed. 
After a pause, she said : 

Honestly, Reaper, I am pretty well ashamed of 
myself. You won’t believe it, but it’s a fact: to 
harass that good old man as I did is outrageous ! 
There you have my mind. He is no more crooked 
than you are.” 

“ I guess you’re correct, Bella,” returned the 
detective, and you’re a pretty white woman. It 
was a damned shame, but it seemed necessary. I’m 
glad it’s over, anyway. Let’s both forget it.” 

“ Agreed.” 

And I suppose you have quite a handsome bill 
to collect ? Just give it to me, and I’ll see that it's 
paid.” 


A TERKIBLE THREAT. 


211 


Bella yawned, rose and said she must hurry home. 
So after arranging her attire, she sallied out. Detec- 
tive Reaper left the hotel some minutes later. 


♦ — 

CHAPTER XXV. 

A TERRIBLE THREAT. 

The holidays were rapidly approaching, indeed 
Christmas was only a few days away, when if any 
hopes had been entertained of even a temporary 
cessation of the series of inhuman crimes they were 
speedily dashed in no uncertain manner by the hand 
of the assassin himself. Throwing off in a measure 
his mask he boldly communicated a purpose only 
conceivable by innumerable multiplication of the 
previous terrible slaughters. It was the fitting cap- 
stone of the whole diabolical structure. 

Dr. Jollier, returning to his office in the afternoon 
from a visit of inspection to a quarantined tenement 
house, was informed by a clerk that some one in his 
absence had wished to speak to him through the 
telephone. 

Who was it ?” asked the doctor. 

Captain Mandeville.’' 

Mandeville, Thomas ? Did you say Mandeville ?” 

“ Yes, sir," replied the clerk, That’s what he 
said his name was. In fact, sir, he asked me to take 
down this message for you in writing. Reads rather 


212 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


funny, sir, as if it was from a crank ; but he was par- 
ticular about your getting it just so/’ 

The chief silently took the sheet of paper on which 
was written the message and retired to his private 
room. He read it several times, slowly chewed a 
cigar into bits, and rang the little bell on his desk. 

The clerk appeared. 

Thomas, when did Captain Mandeville call us 
up ?” 

‘‘ It was — ah, let’s see — yes, just half an hour ago, 

• >» 
sir. 

Describe the circumstances. Tell me all he 
said.” 

“ Well, '^sir,” 'said the clerk, looking surprised at 
the request, you know I was copying and tabling 
those comparative diphtheria reports all morning. 
Just before the, telephone rang, one of the emergency 
doctors came in to get some blanks. I gave ’em to 
him ; he went out ; then I went to the ’phone. 
‘Hello!’ says somebody, ‘Is this the Division of 
Contagious Diseases ?’ I said it was. ‘ Well,’ says 
the man on the wire, ‘ is the Chief of the Division, 
Dr. Jollier, in ? I wish to speak to him.’ I said you 
had gone out but would return in an hour. ‘ That’s 
unfortunate,’ says the man on the wire. ‘ I am anx- 
ious to tell him something.’ I said I’d give you any 
word, or he could call up later. ‘ Well,’ says he, ‘ I 
guess you can take down my message. The Doc- 
tor’ll understand it. Just write as I give it to you.* 
So he began and I wrote the message word for word, 
sir, just as you have it. That’s all, sir.” 

“ And you didn’t ask him his telephone number ?” 


A TERRIBLE THREAT. 


213 


“ Oh, no, sir. He seemed to know you. I thought 
of course — 

“ Yes, yes. What sort of a voice did he have ?” 

‘‘Deep and rather loud. I said to myself, I guess 
this is a sea captain, sure ; one of those big, black- 
bearded fellows/’ 

, “ You noticed nothing else ? Could you tell 
whether he was talking from Fourteenth Street or 
Williamsburgh V* 

“ N-o, I don’t know as I could, sir.” 

“ Has our ’phone been used since ?” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Then ask Central immediately the number of the 
last person talking to us.” 

Thomas disappeared. He reappeared the next 
minute. 

“ Central says, "sir, that no pay station call has 
been made for an hour. The private ones are not 
recorded, and Central doesn’t remember the last 
one.” 

“Ah, yes.” 

After chewing up another cigar, Dr. Jollier turned 
to the waiting clerk with : 

“ Thomas, hurry over to the Detective Office and 
ask for John Reaper. I want to see him right away. 
If he isn’t in ask the sergeant to send him here when 
he appears. Then go up to the trial room, where 
there is a meeting, of the Police Board, and if Mr. 
Leland, a Trumpet reporter, is there, send him here 
at once. He was there earlier.” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Thomas, and departed on his 
errand. 


2U 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE, 


As luck would have it both the detective and Le- 
land were in the police building. Each received his 
summons with something of surprise and apprehen- 
sion and hastened to the office of the Contagious 
Diseases Division. The manner in which Dr. Jol- 
lier greeted them did not diminish their forebodings. 
He at once succinctly related the circumstances, as 
told by Thomas, of the telephonic message. Then 
he handed it to Detective Reaper. 

Ah !” softly whispered that individual to himself 
each time that his eye glanced over the messages. 
After the tenth perusal and the tenth Ah he gave 
it to Leland, who had been listening to these indica^ 
tionsof preoccupation with no little impatience. 

This is what Leland read, in the hasty chirography 
of the clerk : 

‘‘ Dr. Jollier : — I presume you are aware that 
considerable crowds of people, 10,000 and upwards 
in number, are accustomed to gather in lower Broad- 
way every New Year’s Eve to hear the Trinity 
chimes. New Year’.s Eve happens to be less tlian 
two weeks off. What a grand opportunity for me ! 
No more of petty deeds of revenge, or of mere art. 
Here is the true chance for my transcendent capa- 
bility. Regiments, yes regiments, shall succumb ! 
What is the power of kings, princes, presidents, 
armies, navies, compared to mine ? I could annihi- 
late them all. Perhaps I may ! Pardon this egotism, 
inon cher Doctor ; my commanding position quite 
intoxicates me. Of course delicacy forbids allusion 
to the little lamentable fiasco of the other day. 


A TERRIBr.E THREAT. 


215 


Adieu, then, until New Year’s Eve, when, if you shall 
not see, you shall at least hear of, me. 

‘‘^Captain Mandeville.’' 

It is not strange that the young man shuddered as 
he lay down this remarkable and terrible communi- 
cation. Its authenticity was shown on its face. 

In a grave voice Dr. Jollier at length spoke : 

‘‘Something of this kind is just what I have been 
fearing. It is a natural development. So far we 
have managed to check the spread of the diseases 
and prevent a sweeping epidemic. What we can do 
now if this scoundrel carries out his threat I don’t 
know.” 

“ Doctor,” said Detective Reaper, after a pause, 
“ I am still rather ignorant on the scientific side. 
What contagious diseases could at this season of the 
year be disseminated by injection ?” 

“At least half a dozen,” replied Dr. Jollier. 
“ Diphtheria in its malignant form would be per- 
haps the most communicable. The temperature has 
not much effect on that. Moreover, in a city like 
this nearly all contagious diseases can flourish some- 
where all the year round. The germs are kept alive 
in vile tenements and other places. If there is a case 
of diphtheria in a country town, the houses being 
some distance apart the sickness is easily confined to 
the family in which it originated ; but if diphtheria 
breaks out in a city block of connected tenement 
liouses where perhaps i,ooo people live, there is little 
to prevent its taking off the whole i,ooo. The filth, 
overcrowding and general unwholesome existence of 


216 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLK. 


course liave considerable to do with the latter case. 
It is like having a number of open powder kegs with 
a fuse stuck in one of them — and Mandeville intends 
to light that fuse/’ 

‘‘God forbid !” ejaculated Leland. 

“ I wish from the depths of my soul that He would,” 
quoth the physician, fervently. 

“ Excuse me,” said Detective Reaper, bluntly, “ but 
it’s my opinion there’s no one but a son of hell con- 
cerned in this matter and if any one’s to circumvent 
him it’s ourselves ! I never knew of God forbidding 
anything.” 

“Well, well, Reaper,” responded Dr. Jollier, we 
sha’n’t have a theological discussion, but I guess 
we’re all of us right. You may not know it or agree 
to it, but it’s a fact nevertheless that in trying to 
stop this murderer you are acting as God’s agent. 
So are we all. But no more of that. Let us see 
what is to be done. Leland, what can you sug- 
gest r 

“Unfortunately very little,” replied the young 
man. “ It is a certaint}^ however, that it is impossi- 
ble for us three to longer know in impotence these 
dreadful facts, to see horror piled upon horror, and 
be unable, as you said the other day, to lift a finger 
to avert it all ; especially will it be impossible to sit 
quietly while this demon’s proposed New Year Eve’s 
slaughter is taking place. I for one should feel like 
a sharer in the crimes if I permitted it. I say, let us 
publish the whole matter to the world, so that every- 
body may be on guard. Then Mandeville cannot 
continue his work. With several hundred thousand 


A TERRIBLE THREAT, 


217 


detectives, the grown up population of Manhattan 
Island, looking for him he cannot escape detection. 
At least we should get the horrible incubus off our 
shoulders. We have done nothing and I can’t see 
that the prospects otherwise are very favorable.” 

My objection to your proposition, Leland,” re- 
turned the chief, one which I have already con- 
sidered to some extent, is, I think weighty. In the 
first place, if the knowledge that we three possess 
was printed in to-morrow morning’s newspapers I 
have no doubt a most tremendous panic would 
result. People would be afraid to leave their houses, 
to walk in the streets, to ride in elevated or surface 
cars ; we would be in the position of a besieged city ; 
those who could afford it would hurry out of town 
on the first train ; business might have to be sus- 
pended ; indeed, the various ill effects are incalcul- 
able. More important still, all this would rouse the 
murderer to new heights of fiendishness. With the 
greater danger of detection he would be more crafty 
and I have no doubt would manage not only to 
escape capture but perpetrate whatever wretched 
deeds he pleased. His arrest would probably be 
made more, not less difficult. Moreover it must be 
remembered there are a large number of semi-insane 
persons (cranks, we call them) who if they once un- 
derstood, had suggested to them even, this means of 
slaughter, would immediately become copies of Man- ^ 
deville ; instead of one fiend we should have a dozen 
to deal with. Reaper will tell you this is a law In 
crime. Some lunatic hacked to pieces the body of a 
Whitechapel unfortunate. There have been towards 


218 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


a score of imitators of that deed. Every outre crime 
is duplicated. So I say, publish all this and an in- 
definite number of Mandevilles will spring up. In- 
stead of eleven people slaughtered, as is the present 
record, there shall be eleven hundred.” 

Doctor, you are perfectly correct,” said Detective 
Reaper, and the danger from publicity that you 
suggest isn’t by any means slight. I honestly be- 
lieve that ten — no, twenty per cent, of our modern 
crimes is directly or indirectly due to the newspapers 
publishing the detailed and sensational accounts that 
they do. The story of any frightful deed of violence 
is sure to take possession of some unbalanced mind ; 
it stays there ; works and ferments ; finally, one day, 
the public is shocked to hear of another crime of the 
same sort. Of course it isn’t to be expected that 
every ordinary long-haired crank would follow in 
Mandeville’s footsteps, because that would be impos- 
sible ; lack of the proper outfit of virulent bacteria, 
lack of knowledge and skill would prevent. No, a 
much superior class of insane murderers would 
appear. Who knows but some modest bacteriologist 
now working away in his quiet nook, never dreaming 
of the idea, might become one of them. Powerful 
suggestion is a terrible thing. The most cold- 
blooded murder I recollect was committed by an 
unoffending industrious workman in a sawmill. He 
fed the logs to the saw. The idea struck him one 
day that it would be a fine thing to saw his boss in 
two. After thinking about it for a week he did it.” 

‘‘ But,” cried Leland, ‘‘ do we propose to calmly 
fold our hands and allow a wholesale killing on New 


A TERRIBLE THREAT. 


219 


Year’s Eve? Shall we let a mere possibility stand in 
the way of preventing the slaughter of human 
beings ? How otherwise than by publicity can you 
stop the carrying out of Captain Mandeville’s 
threat ?” 

“ Well,” replied the detective, deliberately, if it 
becomes necessary I think I can prevent that crowd 
from assembling.” 

How ?” 

“ There are several ways. I might for instance get 
the rector to announce through the papers that there 
will be no chimes rung. In conjunction with that 
announcement the Superintendent could send two or 
three hundred policemen down town to prevent the 
gathering of crowds. If I was unable to persuade the 
rector it would be to the best interests of the great- 
est number not to have the chimes this year, why — 
well, I won’t say for sure just what would happen, 
but it is possible the bell ringer might disappear the 
day before or the machinery get out of order so that 
it would be impossible to fix it in time.” 

It is all very well,” returned Leland, vehemently ; 
‘‘ suppose you are able to prevent this threatened 
tragedy. Captain Mandeville is nevertheless still at 
large. He has only been baulked at a small point. 
There are other large crowds and other opportunities 
for him that are equally great. The fact is — I must 
be frank with both of you — I think it has been a 
monumental mistake to let this thing run on as it 
has with only ourselves to deal with it. Eleven 
murders ! My God ! Doctor, Reaper. This is no 
small thing ! I mean no reflection on Reaper’s 


220 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


abilities as a detective, but what can he do alone ? 
None of us has been able to do anything. If clear 
publicity isn’t the right thing, let us at least hand 
over the case to the Inspector, where it belongs, and 
let fifty detectives, if necessary, start out on different 
ends within an hour.” 

“ How about that. Reaper ?” said Dr. Jollier, look- 
ing inquiringly at the sleuth, when the young man 
had finished. “ Is there anything in it ?” 

“ No,” was the laconic response. “ In this case 
fifty detectives would be fifty times worse than one. 
As to nothing having been done, our impetuous 
friend forgets. I think a great deal has been accom- 
plished. No, I don’t know of a single benefit that 
can come from giving this case to the Inspector. On 
the scheming side, that is, the devising of plans, and 
so on, I am free to say this present combination 
couldn’t well be excelled. I could want -no better 
associates in a puzzling case. This is a plain fact. 
The diversity of our minds is just the proper thing 
for arriving at the truth by mutual comparison and 
exchange of ideas. Ideas, after all, are all we need. 
For the mere execution of a plan I can get any 
number of detectives at any time. Here also is an 
important consideration : It is very mysterious how 
Captain Mandeville manages to know so much of our 
movements. You remember the forged cablegram ? 
Well, that was no doubt his work, although we 
haven’t discovered yet how it was done. This 
telephonic message is another proof. The villain 
knew evidently as well as I that day in the Second 
Avenue house that Josephus Jenkins was Dr. Jollier. 


A TERRIBLE THREAT. 


221 


Either he knows the Doctor by sight or our plans 
were betrayed by some one. Leland was saying 
something the other day about the quantity of infor- 
mation we possessed concerning Captain Mandeville 
and his crimes. The fact is, Tm afraid Mandeville 
knows as much about our moves as we do of his. 
As I said, it’s mysterious. In this light I wouldn't 
care to have the Superintendent himself added to us.” 

I think I understand your meaning, Reaper,” 
said Dr. Jollier. “It does really seem as if there 
was a leak somewhere, and your policy is the best. 
Talking of Mandeville knowing me by sight, which 
was one of the first things that struck me when I 
read his message, I have noticed for a few days past 
that I see the same man pretty frequently. I imagine 
he may be following me.” 

Detective Reaper laughed. 

“ Don't let that worry you,” said he. “ It's only 
Taylor. I meant to have told you that I set him 
after you the day after that Hezekiah Barnett busi- 
ness. It’s just a little precaution.” 

“ I'm glad to hear of that,” said Leland. “ I was 
going to suggest some time ago that the doctor 
ought to have a bodyguard of some kind. As to 
what I've said, and the suggestions I have made, I 
may have been a little hasty. Whatever both of you 
agree upon I'm ready to adopt. I see the justness 
of Reaper's remarks.” 

The detective lighted his third cigarette, expelled 
a quantity of smoke from his nostrils, and said : 

“ The situation generally might be much worse. 
Instead of discouraging me, this telephone message 


222 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


almost makes me feel hopeful. It was a blunder. 
Such blunders often assist justice. You see this is 
the one weak point in Mandeville’s armor. He could 
not resist writing letters to his victims, though he 
knew they would be sure to be found ; he could not 
resist going to see Josephus Jenkins, though, as his 
concocted story and vile attempt showed, he knew it 
was a trap ; now he has sent this bold message. It 
exhibits his egotism for one thing. With all his 
craftiness and skill, a few more rash blunders like 
this will prove his undoing. Probably he knows 
that fact, by the way, as well as we do.” 

Wouldn’t it then be a good scheme to try to 
communicate with him, through a newspaper per- 
sonal ?” asked Leland. 

“ That, my boy,” cried the detective, “ is just what 
I was about to suggest.” 

After a minute’s labor with his note-book and pen- 
cil, Detective Reaper produced the following : 

“ Captain Mandeville : — Your message by tele- 
phone received, but not very well comprehended. 
Perhaps mistake of clerk. Please be more explicit. 

Dr. J.” 

There,” said the detective, reading the personal. 
“ A fool would suspect that, and yet I’ll bet Mande- 
ville will answer it.” 

The trio thereupon separated, with an agreement 
to meet again in the Contagious Diseases Division 
office as soon as there was any new development. 


‘*iVe found captain mandeville.’’ 223 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

‘‘iVe found captain mandeville/’ 

It was Sunday morning two days before New 
Year’s Eve. In the library of his Waverly Place 
residence Dr. Samuel Jollier, attired in negligent 
costume, was slowly pacing up and down. Although 
his face was placid as ever the volcano-like manner 
in which he was smoking indicated the mental 
tumult within him. 

Out-of-doors Nature was smiling and dimpling in 
winter fashion, a cheerful sun tempering the vigor- 
ous air ; admirable weather for producing rosy cheeks 
and sparkling eyes ; far superior to the indolent and 
enervating weather of the warm summer months ; 
and people were taking advantage of it, as the 
crowded streets attested. 

The melody of Grace Church’s sweet-toned bells, 
with more distant and reminiscent single solemn 
strokes for a background, penetrated to the Doctor’s 
study; truth to tell, it jarred on his nerves; just 
then Dr. Jollier, ordinarily one of the most reverent 
of men, would have unhesitatingly consigned, had it 
been in his power, all churches and tlieir bells to 
Sheol. As if the fates had not already piled enough 
of a burden on his shoulders the morning’s mail had 
brought another concern and an unexpected one. 
It came in the shape of a letter from the president of 


224 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


the Health Board. There is no simpler way than 
quoting it : 

“Dear Sir: — Several members of this Board, 
over which I have the honor to preside, and myself, 
have noticed recently a number of strange cases of 
contagious diseases concerning which your usual 
reports have been meagre and unsatisfactory. 
Doubt has also been raised as to whether the cor- 
rect measures have been adopted in these cases. 
Moreover, an exceedingly irregular and amazing 
procedure on your part in relation to the death of 
Mr. George Barrett, the banker, who died some 
weeks ago, has been brought to my attention. Of 
course you see the necessity of explanation on these 
various points. The Board meets Monday after- 
noon. Please attend. Yours, etc., 

A dullard could not fail to discern the insulting 
tenor of this note. The writer of it, ever since his 
recent appointment, had shown hostility to Dr. Jol- 
lier. He was a stout-paunched consequential individ- 
ual of the extremely material latter-day kind, who 
thought to conduct the Health Department on the 
machine basis of the factories he owned. He was 
evidently trying to make the Doctor resign so that a 
man to his liking could be chief of the Division of 
Contagious Diseases. 

“ Explanation !” thought Dr. Jollier, bitterly. 
“ He wants explanation. If I explained it would be 
neither comprehended nor believed. And then he 
talks about my ‘irregular procedure !* I suppose 


iVe bound captain mandeville.'^ 225 

Mrs. Barrett is responsible for tliat. If he or any 
other member of the Board was capable of appreci- 
ating the circumstances, instead of being an ignor- 
ant layman, and worse — ! Heaven know^s Fm not 
anxious to be chief a minute longer ; Fd resign 
immediately if I didn’t know where my duty was.” 

While in the midst of these reflections, Smith the 
butler announced the appearance of Arthur Leland, 
who immediately entered the study. Dr. Jollier was 
secretly thankful of the interruption and arrival^ 
He handed Leland his cigar box. The latter took a 
weed, lighted it, and said : 

*‘Well, Doctor, I see indications that you’ve been 
indulging in the ‘ thaumaturgic art of thought ’ this 
morning.” 

Yes ; if you’ll read that letter on my desk you’ll 
find out one reason why,” replied the physician, 
briefly. Look at it.” 

Leland read the president’s missive. 

Oh, this is shameful !” he cried. I know that 
fellow. He’s the sort of man to write this way. If 
I were you, Doctor, Fd tell him in plain language to 
— Ah ! but I forgot about the other matter. You 
cannot leave it now in the condition that it is.” 

^‘No, I cannot,” said the physician, soberly. 

“And what of New Year’s Eve? Every time I 
have thought of that horrible threat it has made me 
shudder.” 

“ It’s been bothering me, too,” replied Dr. Jollier. 

I haven’t seen Reaper for five days. Neither has 
the Detective Office.” 

“ Good Lord !” exclaimed the young man. “ It’s 


226 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


only about sixty hours of the time ! All the papers 
have printed programmes of the chimes. It will be 
nearly impossible now to stop the gathering of a 
crowd ; except by platoons of police. ThereVe hun- 
dreds of persons who will come who will not be 
reached by any newspaper notice that can be put in 
between now and then. And you say Reaper has 
disappeared.” 

“ So it seems. I thought of going down to the 
office this afternoon and again asking about him.” 

‘‘Well, it strikes me his absence is queer. Per- 
haps something’s happened to him.” 

“ 1 hope not,” said the Doctor. “ I don't think he 
would risk himself unnecessarily ; and he's shrewd 
enough.” 

At this juncture Smith brought in a visitor's card ; 
Sir Wilfred Montjoy, it read. 

Being in no mood for ceremony, Dr. Jollier said : 

“ Send him in here.” Which the servant accord- 
ingly did. 

Sir Wilfred was a medium sized man with the 
absurd appearance of an ultra Englishman ; he wore 
copious reddish side whiskers, a monocle and a high 
hat ; his clothes were not of the most modest pat- 
tern, he spoke approved cockney. Possibly a hyper- 
critical observer would have said he flavored of the 
stage. 

“ 'Ave I the — ah pleasure of — ah addressing Dr. 
Jollier ?” said the caller, squinting his monocle eye. 

“ You have, sir,'’ replied the Doctor, shortly. 

“ Chief of the— ah Bureau of Contagious Diseases 
—ah ?” 


227 


^‘iVe found captain mandetille/* 

“ Chief of the Division.” 

“ The same thing, I fawncy ?” 

‘^Yes/^ 

“ Then I ’ave ha — ah message for you from Mr. 
Reaper.” 

“The detective, you mean ?” cried both the listen- 
ers in a breath, suddenly and deeply interested. 

“ Haw ! His 'e a detective ? ’E told me ’e was a 
millionaire.” 

Leland and the Doctor were not sure whether they 
had blundered or whether they should laugh. 

Sir Wilfred calmly rummaged about among some 
letters, presumably looking for the message. He 
partially turned his head. Now, looking back again, 
what was the astonishment of the observers to see a 
face devoid of mutton-chops, indeed the jovial face 
of Detective Reaper himself !” 

“ Ha ! ha !” shouted the detective, seeing the 
amazed countenances of his friends. “ You couldn’t 
recognize me in my Sunday costume, eh ? This is 
alnxost as good a joke as Taylor’s old woman !” 

Somewhat nettled. Dr. Jollier said : 

“ Reaper, I don’t see that any one of us has a right 
to laugh very much just at this stage of things.” 

The detective instantly sobered down. 

“You know. Doctor,” he said, “I didn’t come 
here in this shape for amusement. I happened to 
have on the outfit and there wasn’t time to change 
it. When I got here I couldn’t resist the temptation 
of having a little fun. But the fact is — I’ve found 
Captain Mandeville.” 

The effect of this blunt announcement may be 


228 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLii. 


imagined. Ff the detective had said, “ Tve found 
the North Pole” — ? 

Astonishment and surprise are weak words to ex- 
press the feelings of the hearers. They gazed 
speechless at the detective. 

Do you — mean it ?” at length stammered Dr. 
Jollier. 

True as Gospel,” promptly replied Detective 
Reaper. 

And he will be arrested ? You have the evidence? 
He can’t escape V* 

** Within two hours,” said the detective, he will 
be under lock and key. I have a warrant right in 
my pocket. The ink isn’t dry on it yet. As for escap- 
ing, two of the sharpest men that ever wore shoe 
leather are watching him. He can’t get away.” 

Dr. Jollier lifted his hand. 

Before you say another 'word, Reaper,” he said, 

we’ll have some liquor.” 

The servant brought in a tray on which stood a 
bottle of cognac and three glasses. The glasses 
were filled to the brim. 

We drink,” quoth the Doctor, solemnly, to 
John Reaper, the capturer of Captain Mandeville.” 

Leland’s hand trembled so that half the liquor in 
his glass was spilled. 

I suppose,” began the detective, wiping his lips 
with a napkin, I had better tell first who Mandeville 
is. Every one of us here has seen him. Dr. Jollier, 
you know him well — name him.” 

” No, no, it cannot be !” protested the physician^ 
with paling cheek. '‘Impossible.” 


THE detective's STORY. 


229 


Nevertheless, it is so. The damnable murderer 
is — " 

The speaker paused. 

‘‘Speak! Who?" cried Dr. Jollier, in a sudden 
break of emotion. 

“ I will write it on a slip of paper," said the 
detective. “It is less shocking so.” 

The name that the physician read was Dr. Francois 
Clemence ! 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE detective's STORY. 

It was to the chief perhaps as staggering a blow 
as had been that supposedly deadly discovery in the 
Second Avenue mansion. 

Dr. Clemence, a bacteriologist in the employ of 
the city who had been under his immediate super- 
vision for three years, a gay, sunny-tempered French- 
man, withal accounted an expert in his branch, was 
the frightful murderer who had killed eleven persons 
in a most diabolic manner ! 

The idea seemed incredible. 

Leland, too, was shocked and horrified beyond 
measure. 

The last dying peal of a churcli bell floated into 
the silent study where sat the three men. It had a 
weird effect. The echoes of the passing notes seemed 
to throb in the air. 


230 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


The detective’s voice sounded unnecessarily loud 
and harsh when he broke the silence. 

I knew you would be hardly able to believe it,” 
he said. “ I couldn’t at first. This same man — or 
devil — gave me lessons in bacteriology, you know, 
when I first went on the case.” 

And there is no doubt ?” said Dr. Jollier, slowly. 

None whatever,” was the decisive answer. The 
evidence is sufficient to electrocute Francois Clem- 
cnce twice over. He is the murderer. It is now (the 
detective looked at his watch) quarter past eleven ; 
by one I must have Clemence remanded ; therefore 
I’ll hurry my story. I begin : 

‘‘ The last time we met was twelve days ago, in 
your office, Doctor. You showed a message you had 
received from Captain Mandeville. He said he was 
going to do some killing on New Year’s Eve in the 
Trinity Church crowd. We had quite a talk about 
how we’d deal with that. We decided incidentally 
to put a little advertisement in the papers — ‘ Mes- 
sage not understood ’ and so on. There has been no 
reply to the advertisement, I might say. 

‘‘ Well, when I returned to the Police Office that 
day I saw that matters were pretty nearly coming to 
a head. It was high time to be doing something. 
Either the murderer must be caught right away, or 
they’d be hell to pay in earnest. Before that I’d 
done some investigating that came to less than noth- 
ing and made some preliminary moves which didn’t 
amount to much. Now I said to myself, John 
Reaper, you’ve got a big case on hand ; you’ve been 
fooling long enough ; get to work and use your 


THE detective’s STORY. 


231 


brains; if you can’t work and haven’t any brains, 
then for heaven’s sake resign ! Saying that did me 
good. 

I remembered what you’d said about it’s being 
hopeless to look up individual bacteriologists on ac- 
count of there being so many of them ; but I deter- 
mined that end was worth a trial. So I got ten 
spare men from the office, hired fifty more from sev- 
eral detective agencies, and set them after every 
known bacteriologist within twenty miles of the City 
Hall. On the fourth day I got fifty-seven reports. 
One of the missing three became sick. Another lost 
himself in the shuffle, and the third being too enthu- 
siastic and not obeying instructions, got on board a 
steamer with a Brooklyn professor and is now proba- 
bly pretty near Rio Janeiro. While those fifty-seven- 
reports of course did me no good, some of them made 
mighty queer reading, I can tell you. If they were 
published together under the title, ‘ Lives of Scien- 
tists,’ they’d make a sensation. Well, I picked from 
those reports ten of the most suspicious cases and 
had them further investigated ; but before another 
four days I struck the right trail and called off every- 
body. 

“You see I sat right down to my desk and con- 
structed hypothetically the man I wanted. He was 
some one, according to the evidence, close to the 
Department ; he knew the chief of it ; he had at his 
command a range of cultures not likely to be found 
in a private collection ; therefore he was in some 
public laboratory ; possibly he was permanently dis- 
guised as a Frenchman ; the Jew was killed by a 


232 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLB. 


Frenchy looking man; ^ Mon cher ,' Mandeville 
in his telephone message. Well, when I had finished 
all this I wondered who the cap would fit. In two 
seconds came the answer, Francois Clemence, Dr. 
Wilbur’s assistant ! He was in a position as no one 
else to learn our plans. No one else could have 
learned them. Did you not give him all the cultures 
of the murdered man to diagnose ? Did he not find 
out everything from me ? — Fool that I was ! I 
remember his asking me questions. As for Mande- 
ville’s being an Englishman, so he was twenty years 
ago ; but he captained the ^ Bride of Plymouth ’ at 
an early age ; he had plenty of time to go to France 
and become a thorough Gaul ; especially if he was 
inclined that way. In the matter of age, forty>five 
years, a fair estimate of Clemence's, would be suffi- 
cient. Yes, without getting up from my desk I 
determined he was the guilty one. Of course it was 
impossible to suspect Dr. Wilbur in any connection. 
He is a good fat man. 

“Well, while I felt assured I had the right villain, 
I was nevertheless aware of the legal requirements. 
That’s a disagreeable part of the detective business 
•—getting evidence that will pass the lawyers and the 
Judge and that twelve men will believe. It’s not one 
but a dozen scoundrels I have seen go scot free be- 
cause of some little lack or flaw in the evidence. I 
was bound not to have it so in this case ; in short 
I’ve been working since day and night, scraping 
together every particle of fact. My most important 
discovery was made in Clemence’s rooms. He lived 
in an old house at Perry and Fourth Streets, one cl 


THE detective's STORY. 


233 


tlie most God-forsaken and strange regions in the 
city ; you might think it was a part of Paris or Lon- 
don or any other town than New York. Perhaps 
neither of you have noticed the exact section ; where 
the houses are all two and three-storied brick ones, 
red brick ; some have mansard roofs ; they’re all 
from twenty-five to a hundred years old ; every- 
thing is musty and old-fashioned ; the streets are 
narrow ; in the daytime it’s quieter than in the 
country ; at night you wish you were walking else- 
where. 

However, the people of the house were very de- 
cent. They are an old man, his wife, and a grown- 
up daughter. I forget their nantes but it doesn’t 
matter. Clemence, according to the old man, came 
there two 3^ears ago, under the name of Albert ; Mon- 
sieur Albert, by which name he was always known. 
He said he wanted quiet and so forth, and would be 
a steady lodger. They rented to him a large back 
room on the second floor, about the size of this library, 
and a connecting bedroom. A sort of back entrance 
stairway gives access from the main room to the area ; 
then there is a little gate that lets one into the street 
by the side of the house. 

Monsieur Albert, it seems, was even a quieter 
lodger than was expected. He got into occasionally 
coming in by the back way ; finally he never entered 
or left the house but by that staircase, and only by 
rare chance any member of the family ever saw him. 
But he paid his rent every month regularly and that 
was enough. When I learned this I got a search 
warrant, but I had to wait until yesterday afternoon 


234 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


before I had a favorable opportunity for going 
through the rooms without the knowledge of the 
occupant. Taylor was with me. We were careful 
to leave everything after examination just as it was 
before. In a satchel we managed to pick the lock of 
there was a complete outfit for disguising one’s self 
— wigs, moustaches, beards, besides hats and shoes 
and two or three different suits of clothes. A pair 
of white whiskers looked as if they might be Heze- 
kiah Barnett’s, but I wasn’t sure about ’em. 

“We then went to the secretary, a tall mahogany 
affair, and opened it. There were a good many let- 
ters of no importance and a lot of general rubbish. 
Next thing I discovered in a little drawer locked 
with a separate key a memorandum. It was a slip 
of paper with the names of the wretch’s victims 
written on it, beginning with the beggar who died 
of cholera. There was an X opposite each name ; 
tlie poor devils had been literally checked off. As I 
had decided not to disturb anything I left the mem- 
orandum in the drawer. 

“ Well, we came to a sort of cupboard. It was so 
securely locked we took nearly half an hour to open 
it. Here was a clincher indeed ! That cupboard 
contained a whole bacteriol^ical laboratory in min- 
iature. Holes were cut in one of the shelves for 
twenty-five test tubes to fit into ; each tube had a 
culture in it, and a third of the cultures were of the 
very pale color of the deadly diseases. The culture 
compartment of the cupboard was heated by a sort 
of self-regulated alcohol lamp. There was also some 
cotton, a microscope, some long needles, two hypo- 


THE detective's STORY. 


235 


dermic syringes, agar-agar, and other stuff. The 
test tubes, by the way, weren't marked with the 
names of the diseases, as they generally are, but each 
was lettered from A to Z ; the twenty-fifth, however, 
was numbered one. You can see the cunning of 
liaving this private collection ; the scoundrel could 
almost as well have used the department cultures ; 
but he avoided even the slight risk that lay in 
their employment. 

‘^We didn’t find much more. I might mention 
though, a highly complimentary letter of recommen- 
dation written by Pasteur, under whom Mandeville 
or Clemence studied. The letter said he was a first- 
class bacteriologist, very zealous, and bound to make 
his mark. I think he has ! Oh, the horrible villain ! 
I felt like waiting for him and strangling him with 
my own hands. Such a smooth voiced, well dressed, 
polite, gay devil at that ! My true opinion is the 
man is a living Jekyll and Hyde ; only this one kills 
eleven where the other killed one. 

I left Taylor to watch the house and hustled out 
to look up some addresses we'd found and sweep up 
the ends generally. One of the things I learned in a 
short time was that Clemence is engaged to marry a 
rich girl who lives on Fifth Avenue. I got a good 
many points from her. I also found out Clemence 
is running for the presidency of the Bacteriologists’ 
Association of North America. He was cutting a 
big swath in all directions. Now, unfortunately, I 
can’t even allow him the privilege of cutting his own 
throat. But it’s a pity the law won’t snuff him out 
in his own special style.” 


236 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


As Detective Reaper concluded he poured out 
some brandy, tossed it off, wiped off his face as if he 
were perspiring, and, lighting a cigarette, smoked 
vigorously 

Leland, who had been listening with all the strain 
of a theatre-goer's absorbed attention, leaned back in 
his chair and took in ^ deep, audible breath. 

Dr. Jollier quietly said : 

All that you say is doubtless correct, although it 
still appears incredible — like a dream. But there is 
an important discrepancy." 

‘‘ And that is ?’ 

Why, the day we met Mandeville in the Second 
Avenue house and soon after drove to the Bacteriolo- 
gical Department, we found Clemence there with 
Dr. Wilbur." 

That point occurred to me," replied the detec- 
tive. I looked into it. I found Clemence had only 
come in two or three minutes before you and Leland 
arrived. He left the office at lo o’clock that morn- 
ing on some slight pretext. He returned in time to 
meet his superior, who had just lunched, at the stair- 
way of the laboratory. They went up together. My 
idea is, Barnett, alias Mandeville, alias Clemence, 
jumped into a waiting cab after his interview with 
us, and changed his dress inside while being driven 
to Bleecker Street. He alighted within a block or two 
of the laboratory, walked over, met Dr. Wilbur, and 
there you are. He had perhaps told the cabby be- 
forehand he was a detective and ordered the Heze- 
kiah Barnett disguise, wrapped up in a parcel, de- 
livered at ^uch and such an address, That’s done 


THE BETECTIVE^S STORY. 237 

very often ; the whole affair concerning the cabman 
is simple and natural as sliding down hill.’’ 

‘‘Isn’t the theory of ‘Michigan’s’ death knocked 
out then ?” said Leland. “ The Doctor calculated he 
got the cholera germs administered to him in some 
liquid the day he was begging in tlie cross streets 
between Fifth and Sixth Avenues and above Fortieth 
Street.” 

“ Well,” said tlie detective, “ there are a few such 
j ’.oces that don’t fit in, but I’ll make ’em later ; it’s 
my business. The main thing is, I’ve got the mur- 
derer.” 

“ Oh, I meant only to ask you a question,” hastily 
replied the young man. “ But what an extraordin- 
ary actor that Clemence is ! Not to mention his 
Hezekiah Barnett, how he laughed and slapped his 
leg the day you danced around with Dr, Wilbur ! 
That seems frightful now, though. What a Machi- 
avellian fiend 1” 

“He’s no doubt a villain out of a million. But 
the time now is for action ; I must serve this war- 
rant. Leland, you can come with me if you like.” 

“ ril do so,” said the young man, rising. 

“Before you go. Reaper,” quoth Dr. Jollier, “I 
want to shake hands with you. Every mother’s son 
of us on this island is indebted to you immeasur- 
ably. You’ve done a great service. And I person- 
ally owe you a great deal.” 

“ Doctor,” said Detective Reaper, simply, “you’re 
very kind, I’m always glad to shake your hand. 
Come, Leland, we must go.” 

So saying the detective deftly transformed himself 


238 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


again into Sir Wilfrid Montjoy, and, accompanied 
by Leland, left the house. 

Dr. Jollier, when the two had gone, for a consid- 
erable length of time alternately whistled (or tried 
to whistle) a gay opera tune and, pacing up and 
down, gloomily muttered, Poor Clemence ! unfor- 
tunate man 

It was one of those miserable pieces of news over 
which one must both rejoice and weep. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE ARREST, 

Briskly and in silence the detective and his com- 
panion walked westward side by side through 
Waverly Place. Little indeed did those who 
observed the pair imagine their stern errand. In fact 
the peculiar habit of the apparent Englishman and 
Leland's genteel style did not present the most con- 
gruous picture. 

When within a few blocks of the house the detec- 
tive dodged into the “ family entrance ’’ hallway of 
a deserted saloon. He gave Leland a revolver, say- 
ing : 

“Just have this handy, because you may need it. 
My plans are all made. Keep close by me.’* 

The young man thrust the weapon in his pistol 
pocket. Then they hurried on 


THE ARREST. 


239 


At the doorstep of the secluded structure Detective 
Reaper, before employing the heavy dog's head 
knocker, paused, and looked about. Not a soul was 
in sight ; but in a moment, the door of the house 
opposite quietly opened and a man emerging there- 
from crossed the street ; whereupon Detective Reaper 
turned, with a satisfied air, and plied the knocker. 

The newcomer Leland recognized as Detective 
Taylor. He had been on guard for the last six 
hours and reported that within that time no one had 
entered or left the house. I 

After a short interval the widowed daughter of the 
family, still a young woman and not ill pleasing in 
looks, threw open the portal. : 

Monsieur Albert is in, is he not, Madame ?” said 
Detective Reaper in honeyed accents, lifting his hat. 

‘‘ Oh, yes, sir ! That is, I think so. If you gentle- 
men will come in and sit down a moment. I'll see." 

‘‘Ah! we can’t trouble you so much. Monsieur 
Albert should be expecting us. We'll go right up, I 
guess." 

“W-e-11," began the young woman, dubiously; 
but by that time the three callers were at the head of 
the stairs. 

The important moment had come. At last, after 
all his eludings, the horrid prince of criminals, fiend- 
ish slayer of eleven men, was to be apprehended. 
His cunning and skill were of no more avail. His 
frightful career of blood was to be abruptly and for- 
ever ended. 

But was it likely that such an indomitable genius 
of Satan would tamely surrender himself to the rep- 


240 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


/■ 


resentatives of the law ? Leland's hand instinctively 
crept around to his pistol pocket ; he felt compara- 
tively cool. 

Rat-tat-tat went the knuckles of the leader of the 
party against the door panel of Monsieur Albert's*' 
apartment. 

A pause. Then ; 

Enter,’* said a languid voice vrithin. 

- Detective Reaper turned the knob and rather 
slowly pushed the door open with his foot, as if he 
half suspected some kind of a trap. The suspicion, 
however, was groundless. Book in hand, leaning 
back in a large easy chair, was the occupant of the 
room. A smoking Turkish water pipe stood on the 
floor beside him* He immediately jumped to his 
feet and smilingly advancing towards the visitors, 
exclaimed : 

Pardon, gentlemen ! I imagined it was my land- 
lady. Allow me to give you seats.” 

And Monsieur genially bustled about producing 
chairs. 

What audacity ! 

Leland was quite staggered. 

Taylor, who had a vague idea they were dealing 
with a professional swindler, grunted. 

But Detective Reaper said, curtly : 

“ We haven’t got the time to sit down. Neither 
have 3^ou ; except for a chair up the river.” 

The Frenchman turned with a puzzled air. He 
said : 

‘‘No ? You speak in — what you call ? — yes, para- 


THE ARREST. 


241 


bles, Mistaire Reaper. I think, by-the-by, I have 
met your friend, Mistaire Leland, also.’’ 

The devil 1” growled the detective. You un- 
derstand well enough. Don’t give us the pious face. 
Your jig’s up.” 

Piyusface — jigsup,” repeated the Frenchman, 
thoughtfully. That is Greek. But le Diablo 
means — that you are excited, Monsieur.” 

“ Yes, by God, I am !” thundered Detective 
Reaper. A cold blooded fish from the Arctic Cir- 
cle would be excited by such a damned villain as 
you ! Miserable wretch, Francois Clemence, or 
whatever your name is, I place you under arrest !” 

What magic of words or mien was it that produced 
such an astounding effect on such an adamantine 
subject ? 

The color deserting his face Clemence clutched 
tightly the back of a chair, and faltered : 

‘‘ Arrest ? Arrest me ?” 

Strange indeed ! 

Was this weak-voiced stammerer the marble- 
hearted fiend, the cool, calculating demon and unut- 
terable murderer? 

A wonderful metamorphosis ! 

The exhibition of pusillanimity had a peculiar 
horror attached to it. It was repulsive. Anything 
tragical and courageous would have been fit and ex- 
pected. 

‘‘Yes,” said Detective Reaper, his sudden anger 
frozen into contempt ; “ arrest you ; that’s it exactly. 
Why do you ask ? Haven’t you done enough ? Pei - 


242 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


haps you wanted to carry out your New Year’s Eve 
scheme.” 

The Frenchman had dropped back in his chair with 
a hopeless gesture. Now he suddenly started up 
and gave a quick glance towards the back of the 
apartment, 

‘‘ No, no ; don’t do that,” said the detective, com- 
prehending. “ It won’t do you any good. I’ve got 
a man there, too. Oh, you’re caught all right 
enough.” 

Clemence sank back to his former posture. He 
covered his face, now really looking anguished, with 
his hands. The display of such ogre-like, distorted 
emotion was sickening to at least Leland. 

At length the accused one gasped out : 

‘‘ Yes, yes, I admit. I am guilty. Do with me 
what you will. It is right that punishment should 
come at last.” 

Remember this !” whispered Detective Reaper, 
to his companions. It is evidence.” 

Leland wrote the words in his notebook. 

Detective Reaper hastily stepped forward ; there 
w^as a little metallic rattling and a couple of quick 
clicks — and Monsieur Albert, alias, etc., was securely 
handcuffed. 

“That’s better,” quoth the detective, in a satisfied 
tone. “ Now you can’t liurt a fly ; not even yourself. 
I was a little afraid before, but I had my gun ready. 
Stand up, and we’ll see if you’ve got any little 
syringes about you.” 

The prisoner silently rose to his feet. The detec** 
lives thoroughly explored every pocket and were 


THE ARREST. 


243 


also careful to look for deceits in the lining ; but 
they found only a packet of letters, a penknife, a 
bunch of keys, and some small coin, all of which ef- 
fects were confiscated. 

‘‘ Leland get his overcoat, if you will/' said the 
leader, when the examination was concluded. It 
must be in the closet." 

The young man found the garment and also an 
Alpine hat. Nothing more harmful than a pair of 
gloves being found in the overcoat pockets the hand- 
cuffs were for an instant removed and the overcoat 
was slipped on the prisoner's back, after which the 

bracelets " were replaced. Then the hat was 
placed on his head. 

Reaper said : 

‘‘We don't do this for any love of you ; it's only 
to bring you in good shape to your judgment ; other- 
wise I'd take you out naked." 

The prisoner made no reply. 

“ Must be a tough bird," grunted Taylor, “ to have 
you down on him like this." 

“ He's a sitter," responded the other, briefly, 

“ Mf 1 I took him for a ten yearer." 

Opening the door which communicated with the 
back staircase. Detective Reaper thrust his head out, 
put two fingers to his lips, and whistled shrilly, A 
moment later in response to the signal there appeared 
the detective who was on guard outside. He was 
the redoubtable Shrinker. 

“Well, Shrinker, it’s all O. K. as you see," said the 
leader* “ We're going to take him away. I want 




CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


you to Stay here until we get time to search the 
room.’* 

Right!” replied the Shrinker. ‘‘And Baby’ll 
relieve me in two hours.” 

“ Yes.” 

Thereupon the prisoner, speechless, unresisting, 
and his pale face expressive of intense misery, was 
somewhat roughly escorted out of the house, a detec- 
tive on either side, Leland following behind. 

A four wheeler was in waiting two blocks away. 
Thither the party went. Had it been elsewhere than 
in this strange deserted region the unusual spectacle 
of a handcuffed man being led through the open 
street in broad day would have drawn a large crowd. 
Monsieur Albert-Clemence-Mandeville-Barnett was 
unceremoniously pushed into the vehicle ; the others 
then jumped in. 

“ Drive to Jefferson Market,” ordered the leader. 

The cab rattled and dashed down the street over 
the unequal paving. Taylor and Leland sat in the 
rear seat, the latter facing the prisoner, who was be- 
side Detective Reaper. No one spoke. The French- 
man’s head lay sunk on his breast in an abject 
attitude. He did not move during the whole jour- 
ney. 

Soon the vehicle drew up in front of the police 
court. Shoving the prisoner’s hat down over his 
eyes so that no over zealous reporter should recog- 
nize him the detectives led him into the fortress-like 
building. Taking him into a private room the 
justice was summoned 


ASSEVERATIONS OE INNOCENCE. 


245 


Ah, Reaper,” said His Honor ; got your man, 
eh ? You want him remanded, I suppose.” 

“Yes, Judge. To-morrow afternoon at two 
o'clock will do.” 

“So be it,” said His Honor, sententiously, sticking 
his hand in his pockets. 

The perfunctory business thus rapidly over the 
prisoner was hustled back to the carriage, where 
Lelahd had remained for fear of being unpleasantly 
questioned by his newspaper associates. 

Half an hour later Dr. Francois Clemence, bacter- 
iologist in the employ of the city, charged with the 
diabolic murder of eleven persons, sat in a darkened 
cell under the gray marble pile of the Police Build- 
ing. The handcuffs remained on him lest he should 
attempt violence upon himself. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

ASSEVERATIONS OF INNOCENCE. 

Before nine o'clock the next morning Dr. Jollier 
was at his office. There was an unusually large 
amount of w’ork on hand and also a heavy mail ; but 
vigorously as he attacked his labors his thoughts 
were far elsewhere, as may be easily imagined. A 
philosopher with a paradoxical turn has said, Noth- 
ing is Wonderful but the Commonplace ; which say- 
ing the worthy Doctor brought to mind in connec- 


246 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


tion with the tragic events of the past three months 
and their tragic denouement ; but he was inclined 
to reject the aphorism. Considering coolly and 
impartially the man Clemence as he had known him; 
his conduct ; Dr. Jollier could only marvel. It is 
not infrequent to hear of church going and irre- 
proachable bank officials and the like disappear- 
ing ; leaving behind to be suddenly disclosed a record 
of peculation extending over a longer or shorter 
period. Whereat the world wonders. The fact is, 
in most of these cases the church going side is mere- 
ly the one uppermost and the associates at least of 
the errant ones, are aware of their real character ; at 
lowest have sure indications of it. With the late 
bacteriological assistant, on the other hand, the case 
was not so, as Dr. Jollier remarked. In all his three 
years’ work for the city no one noted look, word or 
deed that belied the normal man. When he laughed 
it was with his entire spirit ; sincerity could not fail 
to be discerned in his speech ; the observer would 
have said, A transparent man. Under that deceiv- 
ing shallow transparency what frightful depths ap- 
parently lay ! What prodigy of spiritual abortion i 
must constitute the secret foundation of such a 
nature ! 

Towards the noon hour a policeman on duty at 
Headquarters brought word to Dr. Jollier from the 
prisoner, in fact, a scrap of paper scrawled on with 
a blunt lead pencil. It read : 

For God’s sake, Doctor, come and see me ! A 
terrible mistake. — F. Clemence,” 


ASSEVERATIONS OF INNOCENCE. 


247 


wouldn't have bothered you, chief," said the 
officer, apologetically, but the fellow was raving 
so ; said he knew you. He's some Frenchman. His 
face seems halfway familiar to me, but I can’t place 
him. Will you see him ?** 

“No," began Dr. Jollier ; then, changing his mind 
he put on his hat and accompanied the bluecoat. 

When in the Police Building the sergeant in charge 
conducted the Doctor down the stairway leading to 
the subterranean chambers. Cell No. 15, which had 
briefly accommodated on various occasions many not- 
ables in crime, was the one which held the former bac- 
teriologist. The cell, meanly lighted by a pavement 
grating, of narrow dimensions, contained but a sort 
of iron cot, an appliance of necessity, and a pitcher 
of water. Sitting on the edge of the cot, his wrists 
still bound together with the steel cuffs, haggard, 
stoop-shouldered, with dishevelled hair, was the mis- 
erable Frenchman. As Dr. Jollier appeared in front 
of the cell he started up quickly, made a motion as 
if to hide his handcuffs ; then, apparently acquiesc- 
ing to fate, advanced to the iron door grating. In- 
voluntarily Dr. Jollier stepped back a pace ; a move- 
ment the prisoner did not fail to notice, for he 
exclaimed, with a passing touch of bitterness : 

“ Do not be afraid. You see how I am helpless !" 

“ Yes, you certainly are," was the matter-of-fact 
answer. 

The prisoner’s manner changed to correspond more 
to his look of misery. 

“ Then, chief," he stammered, “ you too think me 


/ 


24S CAPTAIN MANDKTILLE. 

guilty ? You believe the horrible charge made 
against me 
must/^ 

“ God help me 

“Your blasphemy/’ said Dr. Jollier, sternly, ^‘will 
avail nothing. And, wretch, have you not con- 
fessed r 
“ No !” 

“ Be careful what you say. When you were arrest- 
ed yesterday you acknowledged your guilt. I know 
all about it.” 

“ Ah ! Doctor, there is the error,” cried the French- 
man, eagerly. ‘‘In truth — ” 

“ Bah !” interrupted Dr. Jollier, contemptuously, 
“ If you’ve confessed that’s all there is to it. I see 
myself now that you are the vile murderer. You 
might at least show courage.” 

Dr. Jollier started to walk away. 

The prisoner suddenly clutched with his manacled 
hands the grating and cried, frantically : 

“ Let me explain ! Do not go until I have told 
you !” 

“Clean gone, I guess,” observed the visitor’s escort, 
in an undertone, significantly tapping his head. 

The physician wavered irresolute a moment. Then 
he turned back and said, shortly : 

“Well, then, be quick.” 

“ I must speak to you alone,” said the prisoner. 

The sergeant walked to the end of the corridor, 
out of hearing. 

Thereupon the Frenchman, pressing his haggard 


ASSEVERATIONS OF INNOCENCE. 


219 


face in an interstice between the bars of the door 
grating, began impetuously, in a low voice : 

I did not confess, as they that arrested me im- 
agined. I misunderstood. It was so like a flash of 
lightning when Detective Reaper said, ^ I arrest you,' 
that I lost my senses. I thought it was to arrest 
me for something else, an unfortunate thing I com- 
mitted in France ten years ago. So I said, ‘Yes, I 
admit. I am guilty.’ They took me to police court, 
then brought me here. It was only this morning 
that I found out the terrible charge — that I am the 
murderer who has killed eleven persons by injecting 
bacilli of diseases into their bodies. I see what a 
web of evidence surrounds me, I see I am doomed 
unless I prove my innocence, I send for vou. This, 
I swear to you, is the truth.” 

“ How, then,” said Dr. Jollier, coldly, ‘‘ do you 
account for the collection of cultures in the closet of 
your room ?” 

‘‘ That is easy,” replied Clemence. “I have been 
conducting experiments of my own. They have 
come to nothing, it is true. These experiments have 
been on a different line than my work for the city. 
It would have been difficult to keep the cultures apart 
in the laboratory ; besides I felt I should not use the 
city’s time or material. Therefore I established a 
laboratory of my own. You see my own honesty is 
part of the evidence against me. It would have been 
as well if I had been less honest.” 

“ Very ingenious,” thought Dr. Jollier. Audibly 
he said : 

Go on ; continue, Perhaps it will be as easy to 


250 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


explain that slip of paper witli the names of the men 
you murdered written on it.” 

‘‘Ah, that slip!” exclaimed the prisoner, mourn- 
fully. “ I was a fool to make it, but I am innocent 
in that, also. I made it mostly by guess. You gave 
me an anthrax culture to study. I saw it was human. 
I thought about it for a long time ; then I said, It is 
murder. I remembered the case of cholera and how 
it’s origin could not be traced. Perhaps the same 
murderer, I thought. Next I had a mallei culture. 
‘The assassin continues,’ I said. Afterwards came 
the diphtheria, then hydrophobia, then small-pox. 
It was not difficult to connect them all as the work of 
one man. As to the names, I had the beggar s, of 
course, from the newspapers. One day you men- 
tioned the banker, George Barrett, in a way that 
made me suspect he was one of the victims. The 
day after he died you gave me the anthrax culture. 
Therefore George Barrett was the second victim. 
Sergeant Phillips, according to the newspapers, died 
of heart disease, but as I learned the station house 
was disinfected by your order early that morning, 
and moreover the same day I received from you a 
human mallei culture, the conclusion was simple. 
In the same way I discovered who were the other 
victims.” 

Said the visitor, ironically : 

“ An adroit and plausible explanation, worthy of 
Captain Mandeville. Probably you have something 
to say now about the disguises found in your room 
and why you went under the name of Albert. Under- 


ASSEVERATIONS OF INNOCENCE. 


251 


stand, however, that I may yet be a witness against 
you.’' 

Raising his manacled hands above his head, the 
Frenchman said in eloquent and thrilling accents : 

I repeat to you by all that is holy, before the 
God of Judgment, I am telling but the truth. May 
I meet just punishment if it is not so. I can only 
repeat to the authorities what I am now saying. I 
am as innocent of the crimes of which I am charged 
as you are yourself. All I know concerning them 
are my deductions and inferences which I have 
recounted. As to the disguises and the assumed 
name, I can say only this : Some years ago, before I 
came to this country, I had the misfortune to com- 
mit a deed of which I have bitterly repented every 
moment of my existence since. It was done while I 
was — drunk. That was the only time I ever touched 
liquor. Soon after this I feared I might have to 
flee ; so I purchased those disguises. When I came 
to New York, I intended to live under an assumed 
name. But I found I was compelled to refer to my 
instructor, Pasteur, when I applied for the position 
of bacteriologist in the city laboratory. Therefore 
I gave the name under which I was christened, 
Francois Clemence. I was Monsieur Albert at the 
house where I lodged, it is true. Two years ago, 
when I rented those rooms, on the impulse of the' 
moment I gave that name. Afterwards I realized it 
was a foolish attempt at precaution. Perhaps my 
conduct may appear contemptible and cowardly ; 
but I argued I was not wholly to blame for the 
action that made me a legal fugitive ; there were 


252 


CAPTAIN MANDETILLTi:. 


extenuating circumstances ; at least it was done and 
no benefit could come from my receiving punish- 
ment. I had thoroughly repented. Moreover, I 
imagined I was worth more to science than to 
society as an example. However, when I was 
arrested yesterday (for that deed, as I thought) I 
instantly knew it was justice. I said, ‘ I am guilty.' " 

The hearer of this not unastonishing and involved 
statement had been in truth moved by a number of 
opposite feelings of nearly equal strength. The 
manner of the reciter seemed sincerity itself. What 
could be his object in thus prematurely disclosing 
his defense ? Why should he unfold it to his former 
superior? Was it craft, or, after all, madness? 
‘‘At any rate," said Dr. Jollier to himself, “this talk 
can do no harm." Therefore, continuing to hide his 
puzzlement, he said, carelessly : 

“ So you confessed to another — crime, eh ? What 
was it ?" 

Clemence, who had been eagerly scanning the 
Doctor's face as if to ascertain the effect of his 
words, seemed struck in a new way by the question. 
He opened his lips to speak, hesitated, was silent a 
moment, then slowly answered : 

“ Doctor, you ask me a hard^ question. Why 
should I say ? It would mean ruin for me if I did, 
and no benefit to any one. However, in confidence 
I shall gladly — " 

“ No," interrupted the other, harshly, “ I want no 
confidences. Whatever you tell me you tell to your 
judges." 

“Ah, what a position!" cried the Frenchman 


ASSEVERATIONS OF INNOCENCE. 


253 


tragically. “ You do not understand, I am certain. 
Scylla is this terrible charge of many murders ; 
Charybdis that unfortunate miserable offense which 
I dare not name. If I did not know the strong evi- 
dence against me, and also the habit of the police of 
sacrificing innocent men to their reputations, I should 
be indifferent. But even publicity will ruin me. 
Doctor, you are my only hope.” 

“ It is a false hope,” replied the visitor, grimly. 
He added, curiously : And you will not reveal that 
offense, as you term it ?” 

“ Only to save my life,” was the impressive answer 
of the prisoner. At least. Doctor, you cannot 
entirely desert me. A frightful injustice is being 
committed. Consider what I have told you. It is 
God’s truth.” 

At this moment steps were neard approaching 
along the side corridor and the appearance of 
Detective Reaper abruptly terminated the interview. 
The detective quietly took Dr. Jollier’s arm and went 
upstairs with him. The latter started to relate the 
conversation he had had with Clemence. 

‘‘Fact is,” said the detective, “ I heard, or rather 
overheard, it all. It’s a first-rate interesting story, 
but it won’t wash. Already I’ve found new evi- 
dence.” 

After a brief colloquy Dr. Jollier returned to his 
office. He saw personally, though much against his 
inclination, the president of the Health Board, and 
obtained grumbling consent to postpone until the 
next meeting of the Board the demanded explanation 
of “ irregularities,’* 


254 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLK. 


As to Clemence, instead of his public examination 
in Jefferson Market Court taking place in the after- 
noon, as had been decreed, it was decided to have 
him again privately arraigned before the Justice, 
which was done. He was then remanded for another 
day in Detective Reaper’s custody. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

THE INFORMER. 

The last day of the old year. Anno Domini 189-, 
will ever be regarded as memorable by several of the 
persons whom these pages concern. It was one of 
those days that comprise and conclude in action the 
uneventful (or even eventful) record of long previous 
stretches of time. After months of maneuvring in 
the field the two hostile armies suddenly meet and 
settle their differences in a day ; the most momentous 
occurrences in the annals of mankind have required 
but twenty-four hours in which to transpire. The 
silent growth of the oak for a thousand years has 
been remarked ; great also is the speedy culminating 
fall by the woodman’s axe. 

Some forty-eight hours had now elapsed since the 
arrest of Francois Clemence. Nevertheless the fact 
of his apprehension still remained a secret with the 
three individuals who had the most to do with it. 
Dr. Wilbur wondered at the unexplained absence of 


THE INFORMER. 


255 


his usually prompt and assiduous assistant ; finally 
he reported it to the chief of the Contagious 
Diseases Division, who said vaguely such absence 
was ‘‘ all right whereupon Dr. Wilbur slowly 
walked back to the laboratory and pondered long. 
His Honor the police justice was not inquisitive 
about Detective Reaper’s prisoner ; he always relied 
on the detective’s judgment (not ever having found 
reason to mistrust it) and cheerfully filled out 
warrants and performed the other functions in his 
power without asking questions : the very paper of 
commitment recited that John Doe was detained by 
the People of the State of New York as a suspicious 
person.” The sleuths who had assisted in the 
capture were but slightly informed and they lacked 
not the professional talent of forgetting ; the Inspec- 
tor himself, who was at the head of the Detective 
Bureau, was even more ignorant of the case ; while 
the Superintendent, through whom directly Dr. 
Jollier had enlisted the services of the police, shared 
like bliss, as perhaps intimated by the maximist. 

All this secrecy was of course a source of extreme 
worriment to the eagle-eyed police court reporters. 
Who could be the mysterious handcuffed prisoner 
Detective Reaper had thus privately and twice re- 
manded ? Echo answered in startling speculations 
and the nine points of modern journalism were 
satisfied. 

It is true tlie accused might have demanded the 
right of counsel and immediate examination. With- 
out saying whether such demands would have been 
acceded to, he did not make them. Perhaps still 


256 


CAPTAIN MANDEYILLE. 


hoping to miraculously prove his innocence and re- 
gain freedom before the law’s ponderous and diffi- 
cult to stop machinery was fairly set in motion, with 
attendant publicity ? Who knows. 

Such had been Detective Reaper’s recent exhausting 
labors without much chance of rest that the sun was 
at its highest point in the heavens when he awoke 
this day in his room in a quiet Broadway hotel, the 
favorite hostelry of upcountry visitors to the metrop- 
olis, situated in the midst of the wholesale dry 
goods district ; a safe, secluded and convenient 
abode for one of his calling. After donning with 
his usual nicety his always faultless attire the detec- 
tive descended to the dining-room and breakfasted 
modestly (oatmeal and milk, soft boiled eggs, steak, 
and coffee), then lit a cigar and leisurely wended his 
way to the Central Office. 

Towards 2 o’clock he escorted the occupant of 
Cell No. 15 to the rear entrance, the Mott Street side, 
of the police building. A cab was in waiting. The 
prisoner, changed so by confinement — lack of soap, 
sleeping in his clothes and else — that only those most 
familiar with his face would have recognized him, 
and his capturer got into the vehicle and were rap- 
idly driven to the police court. Again His Honor 
gave private audience, again pronounced the remand- 
ing formula. Then Detective Reaper hurried 
Clemence back to the cab, successfully eluding the 
waylaying reporters. Having returned to Head- 
quarters the prisoner was once more locked up. 

Now detectives, like authors and other men, gen- 
erally have in hand at one time several pieces of 


THE INFORMER. 


257 


work in various stages of completion ; in fact the 
nature of their profession is such that intermittent 
labors produce the best results. Theirs is essen- 
tially a waiting craft. Investigation of one crime, 
when it has reached a certain point, must be tem- 
porarily suspended ; then the weaver of evidence 
takes up other threads on his loom. So it was with 
Detective Reaper, and after seeing his prisoner safe 
in his cell he hastened off on an old quest, specifi- 
cally to scan the faces of the passengers on an out- 
going transatlantic steamer, as he had information 
that a much wanted person might be among them. 
The vessel sailed at half-past three. 

To the detective’s disappointment she did not have 
aboard the desired individual. However, he solaced 
himself with the casual apprehension of a pickpocket 
who was plying his trade on the crowded pier and 
took him to the nearest police station. Then he 
strolled uptown afoot and was back at the Central 
Office about six o’clock. 

He sat down and engaged in a lazy badinage with 
the desk sergeant. A part of a morning paper was 
lying on the floor. It was the journal chiefly famed 
for its Personal ” column and the one in which 
Josephus Jenkins had advertised ; it had also con- 
tained the guileful request for further information 
in answer to Captain Mandeville’s telephonic mes- 
sage. This the detective in a lull of repartee picked 
up and turning to the personals ” carelessly perused 
them. They were of the usual kind — secretly worded 
assignations, blackmailing love and matrimonial pro- 
posals, requests for interviews and what not. 


258 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


The last one of the list, however, was different. 
As the detective’s eye lighted on it he uttered a sub- 
dued ejaculation. The cause of his perturbation 
read laconically thus : 

“ Dr. J. : — What is information of Captain Man- 
deville worth ?” 

For a space of several seconds Detective Reaper 
corrugated his brow over the surprising communica- 
tion. At length he crammed the paper into his 
pocket, whistled thoughtfully, replied to the ser- 
geant’s last remark with a grunt, and left the office. 
He went to the Contagious Diseases Bureau and 
asked if Dr. Jollier had yet departed. 

“Went away two hours ago. Perhaps you’ll find 
him at home,” said the solitary night clerk. 

At first the detective thought he would wait until 
the next day ; upon further reflection he decided not 
to delay. Walking across to Broadway he took a 
cable car to Waverly Place. Dr. Jollier was at din- 
ner when the detective arrived. He would have con- 
ferred with the visitor immediately, but was per- 
suaded to finish his meal, which he quickly did. 
Then he entered his study, where Detective Reaper 
was waiting. 

“ Doctor,” said the caller abruptly, “ I just dis- 
covered something, or it discovered me, that I don’t 
know what to make of. I want to get your opinion.” 

Thereupon the detective drew forth the copy of 
the newspaper, indicated with one finger the puz- 
zling line, and handed it to the Doctor. 


THE INFORMER. 


259 


Dr. Jollier read the rubric, glanced at the date line 
of the paper, and said — nothing. 

‘‘Well ?” quoth the other, with a touch of impa- 
tience. 

“ Why,” responded the chief, slowly, “ this seems 
to me like good news.” 

“ You mean — ?” 

“ That some one wants to furnish additional evi- 
dence, for a consideration.” 

The detective said : 

“ Well, of course that’s what appears on the sur- 
face. But as this personal is no doubt the result of 
what we put in the other day about not understand- 
ing Captain Mandeville’s message, how did the 
writer of it know that any information of Mande- 
ville, alias Clemence, was wanted ; and how does he 
have any information to give — unless he’s an accom- 
plice.^ And accomplices we haven’t allowed for. 
So far all the evidence shows Clemence worked en- 
tirely alone. Besides, if he did have an accomplice 
or a tool he wasn’t fool enough to tell that man he 
v^as Captain Mandeville, that name being the one 
under which the murders were committed ; he wasn’t 
fool enough to let that tool know anything danger- 
ous about himself. If we had advertised for this 
information 1 could understand that it was some sur- 
viving member of the ‘ Bride of Plymouth’s’ crew. 
As it is I’m rather in the dark. There’s something 
about that personal I don’t like. I mistrust it.” 

“ Reaper,” said Dr. Jollier, “ sometimes I think 
you’re too suspicious. In fact, I believe you’ve ad- 
mitted it yourself. It isn’t unlikely that Clemence 


260 


CAPTAIN MANDEVlIXE. 


had some agent to lielp him carry out his infernal 
scliemes. Tliat agent found out more about his 
employer than Clemence intended. It’s generally 
the way. Now he wants to make some money from 
his knowledge. Probably he knows Clemence has 
been arrested. Perhaps he’s looking to State’s evi- 
dence.” 

The detective shook his head. 

“ No, no,” he said, “ I can’t believe it of Clemence. 
He was too sharp for that. The man that hood- 
winked me openly as he did in the Second Avenue 
house, wouldn't commit the bl-under of even having 
a confederate, and he’d be mighty careful in his 
dealings with a tool. Clemence was too much of a 
genius to fail there. He’s the sharpest fellow I ever 
came across, crooked or honest. If you were talking 
of any ordinary criminal you d be right. 

Before Dr. Jollier could reply, the servant appeared 
and announced a visitor. 

“ He wouldn’t give his name, sir,” said the flunkey. 
“ He said his business was private. His looks ain’t 
just right, sir. His clothes’re pretty poor.” 

“ Then he must be a questionable character. 
Smith,” responded Dr. Jollier, gravely. “ However, 
bring him in.” 

The caller was indeed a suspicious-looking indi- 
vidual. He was a tallish man, wore a frayed and ill- 
fitting suit of the kind second-hand dealers provide, 
a long dingy overcoat that came within six inches of 
his heels, and shoes with liberal cracks in them. His 
soiled Alpine hat of black felt he awkwardly held in 
one hand. The lower part of his face was covered 


THE INFORMER. 


261 


with a bushy black beard, somewhat unkempt. His 
eyes shifted about uneasily, but there lurked in 
the general appearance of his face an impression 
of self-command, bordering on the insolent. 

Dr. Jollier rose, advanced towards him and 
said : 

Fm the one you asked for.** 

Quoth the caller in a gruff voice, without looking 
squarely at the speaker : 

I want to see you alone.’* 

Come with me, then,*’ said Dr. Jollier, and he 
started to take the visitor into an adjoining room. 

At this point Detective Reaper, who had been 
closely scrutinizing the man’s features, quietly spoke 
up : 

“No, Doctor, don*t go with him. He*ll talk well 
enough here.” 

Dr. Jollier turned in surprise. The caller looked 
about surlily. 

“ It’s all right,” continued the detective, coolly, 
“ I have the pleasure of knowing him. He’s an ex- 
convict and'his name is Paxton.” 

“ Damn you !” growled the man, darting a fierce 
glance at his accuser. He added, less forcibly ; 
“You’re mistaken.” 

“ Oh, no, my boy,** responded Detective Reaper, 
cheerfully. “ A few whiskers can’t fool me. You’re 
Paxton and I guess you know who I am. My name’s 
Reaper. Perhaps you’ll remember I sent you up the 
river for a couple of years.” 

“ So you did,” burst out the other, at length, with 


262 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


an oath, and IVe been waiting for a chance to get 
square with you.” 

“ The chance won’t come for a good while,” said 
tiie detective, grimly. “ You’ve got more time to 
serve yet. Your pal peached on you in that last job 
of yours — tapping the racing wire in Thirty-third 
Street. The old man’s been wanting you badly for 
that.” 

Paxton seemed momentarily taken aback with this 
bit of news. But he quickly recovered himself and 
said, sulkily : 

“ All right, that’s good for a year and a half — ” 
Five years,” interrupted the detective. ‘‘This 
isn’t the first time you’ve done the same trick.” 

“ Well, then, make it five ; but if it’s fifty I’ll get 
hunk.” 

“ Come, Paxton,” said Detective Reaper, soothing- 
ly. “ There’s no use of your having hard feelings 
against me. You wouldn’t do me dirt if you could. 
I always treated you like a gentleman. But what’d 
you want of the Doctor ?” 

“You’d like to know, eli ?” sneered the tele- 
grapher. “ Well, you’ll never know, or he either, 
and you’ll both be sorry for it.” 

With another less hardened type of criminal 
Detective Reaper would have perhaps made some 
allusion to the terrifying “ Third Degree ” to extort 
a confession. Such threat, or even the realization, 
would only make Paxton laugh. So the detective 
said, mildly : 

“Well, you can do as you please, but if it’s worth 
anything to us it might do you some good, too.” 


THE INFORMER. 


263 


The telegraplier knit his brows closely together. 

Is this a square deal ?” he said suspiciously. 

On my word/' responded the detective. 

Then,” said Paxton, “ Fll speak a word to Dr. 
Jollier here. I know he's an honest man. If he says 
after hearing that the rest is worth telling, that it's 
worth my going scot free, and a bonus besides, that 
he'll guarantee that, why I’ll talk.” 

It looks like a fair proposition,” said Dr. Jollier 
quietly. 

The detective waved his hand in assent. 

Dr. Jollier and Paxton stepped into the next room. 
The door was locked. Detective Reaper anxiously 
awaited their reappearance. In less than five minutes 
they returned. 

‘‘ Well, Reaper,” said the Doctor, I've promised 
immunity and $200 in cash within twelve hours.” 

‘‘ Then it must be something important,” quoth 
the surprised detective. 

It is. Paxton is the man who wrote that personal 
you were showing me a little while ago.” 

“Yes,” grunted the telegrapher, flinging himself 
into a chair, “ I put that in the paper. But I was 
hard up and I didn't want to wait for a slow answer. 
So I came here to-night to see the Doc personally. 
As long as he's promised me protection I’ll tell every- 
thing.” 

“ First tell me before you begin,” said Detective 
Reaper, “ how in the deuce you knew who Captain 
Mandeville was and how did you know we wanted 
information about him ?” 

“ That's easy,” replied Paxton. “ Captain Mande-? 


264 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


ville is the name by wliich I knew this man, I sup- 
pose he had other names. I happened to see that 
ad. and I saw there was a chance for me. I knew 
Dr. Jollier must have got onto Mandeville’s crooked- 
ness.'* 

A dozen other questions were on the detective’s 
lips, but he did not put them and allowed Paxton to 
give his narrative in his own way. 

The telegrapher’s story was really not a very long 
one. It commenced with his meeting Captain Man- 
deville soon after his release from Sing Sing prison 
the previous spring. The ex-convict was homeless, 
penniless, and half sick. Under the guise of benev- 
olence Mandeville gave him money and got him 
lodgings. Soon afterwards Paxton was arrested on 
suspicion of having commited a burglar3^ In some 
mysterious way his benefactor had him released. A 
month later again the telegrapher was arrested, on a 
like charge. After several weeks’ detention in the 
Tombs the case came to court. Strange to relate a 
flaw was discovered in the indictment and the pris- 
oner was discharged. Paxton believed this second 
escape due to the same intervention. Captain Man- 
deville remained in constant communication with him 
through the medium of a branch post-office. He 
periodically gave him sums of money. In the early 
fall he told Paxton the time had come to repay these 
beneficences. He sent the ex-convict on many strange 
errands. The first of these was to dog the footsteps 
of George Barrett and find out his daily habits, when 
he went to his business, when he returned, and the 
like, Next Paxton was commissioned to ascertain sim- 


THE INFOKMER. 


265 


ilar facts concerning Police Sergeant Phillips. Then 
his employer told him to learn all he could about the 
Contagious Diseases Bureau. The final and most 
important service was the cutting of the Atlantic 
cable and the substitution of the forged message for 
that of the Liverpool Chief of Police. Shortly after 
this Mandeville gave the telegrapher $500 and told 
him to go West, as there was nothing more for him 
to do. Paxton accordingly went to Chicago. When 
the money was spent he returned, which was two 
weeks ago. 

Mandeville's appearance ? He was a man hard to 
describe, but he wore a moustache and goatee, after 
the style of the Gauls. All this and more Paxton 
told in considerable detail, doubtless with some 
broidery of his own. 

It was past nine o’clock when Detective Reaper led 
the telegrapher before Cell No. 15 at Police Head- 
quarters and lighted a gas jet so that a strong 
illumination was cast into the iron-barred chamber. 

Paxton looked critically at the pale-faced occupant 
of the cell. Then he said, decisively : 

‘‘No, that ain’t Captain Mandeville.” 


266 


CAPTAIN MANDE7ILLE. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

SUICIDE. 

That same New Year’s Eve Arthur Leland was 
assigned by his city editor to the Tenderloin District, 
it being the weekly holiday of the reporter who 
regularly attended to the news of that section. As 
an occasional assignment it was not unpleasant. 
The same genial journalists were there — Hartley 
Thomas the self contained, Foster the cynic. Cooper 
the confiding, and Donovan ^the exquisite. Zarali 
the Bagdad dancer, “ that old cat Mme. La Salle ’’ 
and Diamond Mary had gone, but there were fresli 
topics of conversation in new meteors flashing across 
the brief Tenderloin horizon. During the course of 
the evening, Leland, accompanied by Foster, visited 
three theatres and saw parts of as many performances. 
In the first playhouse the plot was just commencing 
to thicken when tlie young men were compelled to 
depart, in the second the curtain had fallen on the 
most powerful act when they arrived, in the third 
they only beheld the denouement. It is not the most 
agreeable method of theatre-going. 

At half-past ten Leland and his companion 
repaired to the general rendezvous of the critics and 
reporters in the lobby of a centrally located theatre, 
where notes were nightly compared. One of the 
critics announced his firm intention of dealing 
severely with— ‘‘ roasting ” was the word he used— 


STHOIDE. 


267 


a certain play and would not listen to expostulation. 
Cooper distributed a small item he had obtained at 
a music hall, and Donovan told of the humorous 
mishap of a manager. The quintet of reporters then 
went to the Anonymous Club to write up these things, 
also some station-house news, and send them to their 
respective offices by messenger. 

A quarter past eleven all but Cooper walked over 
to the police station. The crop of prisoners was 
much as usual, except that a few obstreperous horn 
blowers were brought in. Magdalenes, young and 
old, some weeping and some not, an odd colored one, 
impudent beggars, pursy, blinking intoxicated 
citizens, saloon brawlers, a petty swindler — these 
were the accustomed characters that made up the 
panoramic police view, one which does not lack its 
interest to the beholder. 

Well,*' remarked Hartley Thomas, reflectively, 
just after a shrieking female was dragged to a cell, 
if Sergeant Phillips was on the desk to-night he*d 
petrify that wench with a glance. He was a genius 
in dealing with 'em, except the drunks. Poor old 
chap, I liked him in spite of his cold fish-eye." 

He did have his merits," assented Foster, and 
he always treated us well. But I'd hate to die the 
way he did. I’ve wondered more than once what 
really did cause his death. This talk of heart disease 
is rot. Everybody who doesn't fall over a precipice 
nowadays is killed with heart disease. Leland, 
what do you think was the cause ?" 

“ I — I wouldn’t like to say," stammered the young 


man. 


268 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


I think it was partly loss of breath/* volunteered 
Donovan, coolly, scratching a match on the under 
side of his boot heel. 

Donovan,** said Hartley Thomas, judicially, 
you*re a cold-blooded sort of individual who thinks 
a deuced sight more of the cut of his clothes than 
anything else.’* 

Perhaps so,** was the calm answer. But after 
all it*s only a choice of vanities.** 

Cooper rushed into the station-house. 

Fellows,** he cried breathlessly, there’s a suicide 
in Forty-third Street ! My office just called me up 
on it. They got it from Headquarters.” 

“ It’s out of our district,” said Thomas, buttoning 
his overcoat, but I guess we’d better all go up. 
We can get there quicker than any one else. I know 
my people’ll want me to cover it.” 

The reporters hurried out. As they hastened to- 
wards Sixth Avenue, Cooper told the exceedingly 
meagre details. The suicide was a man, at No. — 
West Forty-third Street. His name was not yet 
ascertained. 

With an undefinable thrill Leland recognized tliat 
the number was next to the house of Prof. Sartoris. 

At the corner of Sixth Avenue Thomas suggested 
that they take a cab as the speediest means of con- 
veyance. Accordingly the quintette piled into a 
four-wheeler and told tlie jehu not to spare his nag. 

Judging from the neighborhood, it ought to be a 
pretty good case,” shouted Foster, in order to make 
himself heard above the rattling of the cab. 


SUICIDE* 


269 


Yes,” roared back Cooper, near Fifth Ave- 
nue.” 

When the carriage turned into Forty-third Street 
Leland looked at his watch by the passing illumina- 
tion of the corner arc light. He saw it was ten 
minutes of midnight. 

The vehicle stopped with a jolt. 

Here y’are, gents,” sang out the driver ; but the 
journalists had already tumbled out. 

Thomas nimbly ran up the steps of the house. 
The outer door was shut and the mansion was silent 
and dark. 

This is the number all right enough,” he mut- 
tered, peering at the door plate, “ but there must be 
a mistake.” 

Yes, there is !” exclaimed Cooper from over his 
shoulder. Don’t you see the lights next door ?” 

Next door was Prof. Sartoris’s. 

Standing in a shadow at the head of the steps was 
a helmeted bluecoat. 

Rushing up to him, Thomas demanded : 

‘‘ Suicide here ?” 

‘‘ Sure !” said the policeman, cordially, “ Go 
right in.” 

Followed by Donovan, Foster and Cooper, tlie 
questioner hastily entered the house. 

‘‘ Officer,” said Leland, faintly, ‘‘ do you know 
who it is ?” 

Man of the house, I guess. You’re a reporter, 
too, ain’t you ? Why don’t you go in ?” 

Leland staggered across the threshold. 

A flood of light streamed into the hallway from 


270 


CAPTAIIT MANDEVILLE. 


the open study door. The noise of shifting feet and 
the low buzz of voices floated out. 

With an exquisite sensation of sickness, Leland 
tremblingly advanced to the portal. The sight that 
he beheld in open-mouthed horror compelled him to 
clutch the sides of the doorway lest he should fall. 

Lying on a sofa almost in the centre of the study, 
face upwards, was the dead body of Prof. Ralph 
Sartoris. A great ragged bullet hole was in the 
right temple, and there was another orifice in the 
left side of the crimsoned forehead where the glanc- 
ing ball had come out. A quantity of brain matter 
oozed from the first wound. A drop of blood had 
trickled down to the tip of the nose and remained 
there uncongealed. On the floor was a considerable 
pool of the red fluid. The right arm hung over the 
side of the couch and the weapon of self destruction, 
a heavy black barreled revolver of the bull-dog pat- 
tern, lay on the carpet, almost touched by the nerve- 
less fingers. The other arm crossed the chest. The 
limbs were fully extended. Despite the horrible 
damage of the wounds, the features of the dead 
wore a singular look of placidity. It was a strange 
fact and not to be unnoticed, even at first sight, and 
in larger circumstance, that instead of the venerable 
silvery locks, a crop of closely clipped grayish hair 
covered the head. 

A police roundsman sat in a chair beside the 
couch. He was explaining to one of the reporters 
what he knew of the case. Two others were bend- 
ing over the corpse. The fourth reporter, Donovan, 


SUICIDE. 


271 


was looking about the apartment and trying to find 
where in the ceiling the bullet had gone. 

Now there was another smaller room connected 
with the study, its sole means of access. It had been 
the Professor's sanctum sanctorum that no one but 
himself ever entered. The door of this room was 
half ajar and it too was ligiited up. Leland's eyes 
mistily wandered thither. There briefly passed 
across the area of yellow illumination inside the fig- 
ure of — Detective Reaper. 

Moved by unexplained impulse the young man 
stumbled across the study to the inner chamber. A 
tall stranger in a long overcoat was standing in a 
corner. Detective Reaper, stooping over a cabinet, 
was transferring the contents of a drawer to an open 
Gladstone bag by his side. 

“ Reaper," said the young man, hoarsely, what 
are you doing here ?" 

The detective quickly turned. He gazed a 
moment at the marble-faced speaker and led him 
unresisting to a chair. 

‘‘ Paxton, close the door." 

The stranger obeyed. 

“ Why," said the detective, softly, placing one 
hand on Leland’s shoulder, the corpse in the next 
room is that of Captain Mandeville." 

Just then a loud universal blare of mingled sound, 
shrieking whistles, jangling bells, raucous horns, and 
reverberating cannon, proclaimed the death of the 
old year and the birth of the new. 

It was a mighty requiem. 


272 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


CHAPTER XXXIL 

ANOTHER VIEW* 

It IS necessary to return to the time three hours 
ago when Paxton at Police Headquarters made his 
negative declaration concerning the occupant of 
Cell No. 15. Detective Reaper was completely con- 
founded. At first his suspicions were aroused. Was 
it a cleverly devised plot for the murderer and his 
accomplice to meet, possibly the latter to attempt in 
that favorable place to overpower his escort and 
release the former? The detective put himself on 
his guard. 

Paxton repeated his statement with emphasis. 
Detective Reaper told him to go upstairs. He 
promptly did so, follovved by the detective. So the 
worst part of the supposed plot had not carried 
through. 

The Vidocq was mentally debating whether the 
wisest course was not to immediately lock up the 
telegrapher when that individual remarked he had 
omitted something in his confession at Dr. Jollier’s 
house. 

‘‘Out with it, then,” said the other. 

Paxton replied it was that on one occasion he had 
secretly followed Captain Mandeville to a certain 
address. It was after a midnight interview in a 
Bowery beer garden, the usual rendezvous. By cir- 
cuitous routes, riding in surface cars, cabs, and in 


anothp:r view. 


273 


elevated trains, backwards and forwards, Mande- 
ville had finally arrived after an hour at Sixth 
Avenue and Forty-second Street. Paxton had witii 
great difficulty managed to remain in pursuit unseen 
and also alighted there from the elevated. Mande- 
ville walked about several blocks. In Forty-ihird 
Street, near Fifth Avenue, he suddenl}^ disappeared 
within a brownstone house. Paxton waited fifteen 
minutes and then cautiously approached the house. 
He was unable from darkness to ascertain the num- 
ber (moreover a policeman was passing), but he 
fixed the location by the electric light post standing 
in front of the mansion below. Then he went away. 
He did not dare to find out the number by returning 
in the daytime, or to learn who were the dwellers in 
the house. 

As soon as Detective Reaper heard this he decided 
not to lock up the telegrapher, at least for a while. 
He hurried him to Broadway and the two rode 
uptown in a cable car. 

Ten o'clock was striking when the detective and 
the ex-convict swiftly made their way through West 
Forty-third Street. The latter stopped in front of 
the last arc light in the street. 

‘‘ There,” said he, pointing, unless this post has 
been changed, is tlie house I saw Mandeville 
go in.” 

Detective Reaper looked sharply at the Sartoris 
dwelling, 

“ You're sure you aren't mistaken in the street ?" 

Dead certain.” 

Then,” mentally soliloquized the detective, I’ve 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


/ 


274 


made one of the biggest mistakes in history — but by 
God ! ril rectify it this very night. Paxton is tell- 
ing the truth. If I’d only known I was right at 
first !” 

What’re you going to do ?” ventured the tele- 
grapher. 

Never mind. Come with me.’ 

Detective Reaper strode along at such a pace that 
the long legs of his companion were fully employed 
in keeping up with him. A cab was found in Fifth 
Avenue. The pair were rapidly driven to the house 
of His Honor the police justice in University Place. 
Unfortunately His Honor was not in. He had gone 
to Daly’s Theatre. Silently cursing inopportune 
chance the detective ordered the jarvie to drive 
thither. 

It was towards the close of the last act when Detec- 
tive Reaper, brushing past an expostulative usher, 
walked down through the main isle of the theatre to 
the orchestra circle where sat His Honor. The 
justice nodded assent to the few whispered words, 
drew forth a document, hastily scratched his signa- 
ture at the bottom with a stylographic pen, and gave 
it to the detective, who retired amid the curious gaze 
of all observers. 

On the way uptown Detective Reaper properly 
filled in the warrant, name, date, etc. 

Eleven o’clock found the detective and his com- 
panion alighting from the cab in front of the Sar- 
toris house. The door bell was rung. After a con- 
siderable interval a woman servant responded. Was 
Prof. Sartoris at home ? Yes, but he had locked him- 


ANOTHER VIEW. 


275 


self in his study earlier in the evening and had given 
orders not to be disturbed, even by particular 
friends. 

'' Our business is very important, ’’ said the detec- 
tive. “We must see him to-night.” 

There was something in the tone of the speaker 
that caused the servant to reply : 

“ Very well, sir. Step inside. What name shall I 
give ?” 

“ Mr. Vandewater.” 

The servant returned in a couple of moments and 
said Prof. Sartoris would be in the parlor directly. 

As the minutes slowly passed without the Pro- 
fessor appearing Detective Reaper became uneasy. 
He rose from his seat, glanced at his watch, and 
muttered : 

“ There’s something wrong. Paxton, we ought to 
have gone right in.” 

At length the detective started towards the door. 
But before he reached it a pistol shot rang out. 

The two men looked at each other and rushed to 
the study. They burst open the locked door. 

Captain Mandeville was dead and the warrant was 
not needed. 

That very night, it appeared, the murderer had 
intended flight. A clipping containing the tele- 
grapher’s proposal of betrayal was found by the de- 
tective on a writing-desk. Evidently Mandeville 
knew or strongly suspected his former agent was 
capable of fully denouncing him to the representa- 
tives of justice. He had sent his daughter to visit a 
friend in Harlem and dismissed for the night all but 


276 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


one of the servants. He was in the act of disguising 
himself for his departure when Detective Reaper 
and Paxton arrived. A hand satchel was packed 
with the necessaries of travel and besides several 
hundred dollars in cash, it contained a passenger 
ticket of a vessel that sailed for a Mediterranean 
port in the morning. The gas log in the hearth was 
lighted and there were indications that papers had 
been destroyed, but there had not been time to burn 
a pile of letters and documents that lay on a chair 
beside the fire. When the servant announced the 
callers Mandeville asked her what they looked like. 
He undoubtedly recognized from the description 
who they were and saw there was only one escape — 
death. A few hours more and he could have laughed 
at pursuit. 

Sending the telegrapher for a policeman, that the 
usual formalities might be observed. Detective 
Reaper set to work to make a private investigation 
and gather any papers bearing on the murderous 
side of tlie dead man’s life. Among the unburned 
documents were typewritten copies of the letters 
Captain Mandeville had sent to his victims. From 
the servant, despite her weeping agitation, the de- 
tective managed to obtain considerable information. 
The most important of it concerned the secret 
chamber. The detective broke into this room and 
found as he expected a well equipped bacteriological 
laboratory. There were cultures of a dozen of the 
virulent diseases and all the necessary tools. A let- 
ter written by the Professor to a European scientist 
seenied to intimate the cultures were gotten in Ger- 


THE PUBLIC SIDE. 


277 


many. In a drawer were a few loose manuscript 
sheets which contained vague references to the 
‘‘object and “ subject.” Detective Reaper did not 
disturb them, after seeing one page inscribed : 
“ Metaphysics : A Treatise of the Twentieth Cen- 
tury.” Among the otlier discoveries was a package 
in an envelope. It was addressed in the Professor’s 
hand to Arthur Leland. A side inscription said it 
was not to be opened until three days after the 
writer’s death or disappearance. 

None of the documents cast much light on how 
Mandeville spent the interval between his rescue 
from the faraway island on which he had been 
marooned by the ‘‘Bride of Plymouth’s” mutineers 
and the time he became connected with Columbia 
College, six years ago. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

THE PUBLIC SIDE. 

The tragic story of Prof. Sartoris’s demise was the 
chef d' euvre of the morning newspapers. People 
made little self-congratulatory shrugs as they saw the 
great black sensational head lines and the quantity 
of detailed printed matter beneath. 

The cause of the suicide seemed an absolute mys- 
tery. Detective-Sergeant Reaper, as the accounts 
unanimously stated, had gone to the Professor’s to 


278 


CAPTAIN MANDEriLLE. 


report progress in the investigation of a small burg- 
lary that had recently taken place in the house. 
Reaper was accompanied by another man, a private 
detective. Soon after their arrival was announced 
the fatal shot was heard. All evening the Professor 
had been studying and writing. The sole servant 
said he never appeared more cheerful than wlien she 
informed him of the presence of the visitors. 

He was a quiet, studious man, yet genial and 
polite, was devoted to his only daughter, had many 
interests, was not as known financially embarrassed, 
and, in short, was the last person on earth one would 
imagine would wreak self-destruction. Philosophers 
and men that think don’t as a rule commit suicide. 

One of the papers ventured to put forth a weak 
theory that it was not suicide at all, but an accident. 
But the theories were generally reserved for the 
second day articles. These also contained innumer- 
able interviews with policemen, servants, college 
officeis, students, and every one however remotely 
connected with the Professor or the tragedy. A 
more or less complete and accurate biography of 
Prof. Sartoris, obtained heaven knows where, was 
likewise given. 

All his late associates in the college were unanim- 
ous in lamenting his demise as a great loss to specu- 
lative science and pedagogics. They did not omit 
expiession of personal esteem. They expressed 
forcible opinion that only a suddenly unbalanced 
mind could have prompted the unfortunate deed. 

The funeral was simple^ but it was attended by 
many distinguished men. 


CONCLUSION. 


279 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

CONCLUSION. 

Dr. Francois Clemence was of course released with 
apologies. For various reasons which may be 
guessed he did not attempt to obtain legal satisfac- 
tion for his incarceration, but quietly departed on an 
early train for the West, after sending to his superior 
his resignation as assistant bacteriologist in the city 
laboratory. Before his departure he received assur- 
ances that no one would try to learn what was the 
“ unfortunate thing of former years to which he had 
unwittingly confessed. A California medical journal 
recently devoted several pages to an important dis- 
covery in bacteria made by the eminent Dr. Clem- 
ence.’' 

The good fat Dr. Wilbur remained indefinitely in 
his old position and did faithful work. 

Bella still assists the police at intervals. As for 
Baby and Shrinker, they have not lost their cunning. 
The relative merits of various criminals are yet warm 
subjects of discussion with them. 

Paxton the informer settled down with the aid of 
his financial recompense to pursue an honest exist- 
tence. But in a few months he became restive, went 
to Texas and joined a company of bandits. The 
Vigilantes finally dealt him mortal punishment. He 
died with a sneer. 

Arthur Leland, at the expiration of the specified 


280 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLE. 


three days, opened tlie package left him by Prof. 
Sartoris. It simply contained two certificates. One 
showed that the Professor’s supposed daughter was 
really the child of a young English couple who had 
been suddenly killed together in a railway accident. 
The other document was the record of adoption, 
which occurred when the girl was four years old. 
A few weeks later the young man took these papers 
to his fiance and proposed immediate marriage. 
The event, however, was postponed for six months. 
Then the ceremony quietly took place. A modest 
legacy coming to him, Leland was enabled to take 
his bride on a European trip, partly for a cliange of 
scene. Upon their return the young man again 
labored in the newspaper field for a brief period. 
A favorable opportunity then presenting itself, he 
became connected with the staff of a magazine. At 
present he is debating whether short stories or 
longer productions of fiction are his forte. He fre- 
quently meets his old journalistic confreres of the 
Tenderloin, South Fifth Avenue and elsewhere, and 
these occasions are always pleasurable on both sides. 
By force ^of will Leland has blotted out several 
chapters of his life and they trouble him little. His 
charming and pretty young wife, one would think, 
never saw shadow of care. So are we made. 

Detective Reaper by mutual agreement destroyed 
all of the papers of Captain Mandeville he had col- 
lected. He turned over the laboratory, with Dr. 
Clemence’s private one also, to Dr. Wilbur, who 
found use for the cultures. The report of his inves- 
tigations in the case of “ Dr. Jollier, etc.,” was 


CONCLUSION. 


281 


marked in the secret official book of the Detective 
Bureau, “ No results.” The detective gave up cigar- 
ettes and took to reading poetry. His weakness for 
dress he still retains and he likes to join the Sunday 
parade on Fifth Avenue. It is true he often com- 
bines business with pleasure on such occasions, and 
woe be to the straggling malefactor who meets his 
keen gaze. He continues to gain renown by his 
captures and there is talk he may be the next In- 
spector. He doesn’t care either way. 

Dr. Jollier offered his resignation to the Health 
Board. It was rejected. He would have insisted 
had not the obnoxious president been removed. 
However, the Governor shortly appointed the Doc- 
tor to be Health Officer of the Port of New York. 
He performs his wider and possibly more responsi- 
ble duties to the satisfaction of everybody, even the 
daily press. No one knows how many dangerous 
epidemics his watchful efforts have barred out of the 
country each year. 

Once in a long wliile the three friends meet and 
dine together. They are always very gay. 


282 


CAPTAIN MANDEVILLK. 


EPILOGUE. 

THE CITY OF THE SILENT. 

Greenwood, that magnificent City of the Silent, 
possesses many charms of a sombre sort to the re- 
flective visitor. Gazing in dusky sepulchres upon 
tlie crumbling caskets of ancient Pharaohs, or tra- 
versing the lab3^rinthine passages of catacombs, is at 
best a dryly mournful business. There is a death- 
ness which exceeds death. All soul has truly fled, 
and ages since. Only may the peering archaeologist 
extract aught of benefit. But in the western last 
abode of mortals’ populous home, there is a subtle 
power that sometimes aids the chastened imagination 
to dimly, feebly view the distant borders of the great 
Eternal. In this world of chaotic night, darkest at 
midday, such tiniest rays of light are to be treasured 
above all tangible gems and gold. 

Perhaps late in spring, a shining afternoon, when 
grass is green and flowers bloom and trees are in 
full leaf, the visitor chooses to wander along the 
quiet avenues. He has passed the tall cenotaphs of 
battle-famed on land and sea. On either side stand 
the marble or granite tombs of the place’s aristoc- 
racy. They bear sculptured inscriptions and not a 
few have inwrought portals of bronze. Some are 
more highly decorated with symbolic figures and 
surmounting spires. A few have freshly withered 
garlands pendant from their doors. Do these ten- 
ants sleep better ? 


EPILOGriS. 


283 


Further on a drooping, sighing willow marks a 
square grass plot where rests a distinguished son of 
earth. In life he was the center of a nation’s gaze, 
and rightly. Next may pensive contemplation look 
upon the venerable dwelling of a departed giant — 
one tliat thought. Six feet are likewise sufficient for 
him. The roll of fame here drops many names, but 
a considerable list withstand cold stone and sod. 
But what difference ? All are here and now alike. 

Yet a little on and older habitations appear. The 
melancholy lines are barely decipherable upon the 
decaying stones. The weepers for those pilgrims 
have in turn been wept over and so on, rank upon 
rank, for many generations. Sturdy men were they, 
valiant foundations of the present. Their bones 
must have long been dust. Let the daisies freely 
grow above them and the long grass wave about 
their falling indexes. 

Now one beholds a wide undulating field thickly 
planted with uncountable snowy slabs. It is a 
stunted forest of marble. It is a vast congregation 
of but one sect. The blue sky roofs it. Nature 
delivers a perpetual sermon. A weak yet more 
articulate choral voice is that of the low-sobbing 
pines. Here is everlasting harmony, a symphony of 
tempered silence. Melodies without sound, deep 
organ roll, or soft as zephyrs, penetrate to the attuned 
ear. Sacred serenity sits everywhere enthroned. 

With thoughts unutterable the visitor presses his 
way up the verdant brow of an eminence. He gains 
the crest. A rare sight unfolds itself. Encircling 
below are the hills and dales and gently sloping 


284 


CAPTAIN MANDEViLLE. 


valleys of the metropolis of sleepers. The pure 
architecture is lent an ethereal glow by the glittering 
sunlight. The symbolic whiteness of tlie myriad 
marbles contrasts with the not too profuse adorn- 
ments of the season. On yonder hill a stately spired 
mausoleum is enclosed by a cluster of fragrant ever- 
greens. A warbler of the air flits among the 
branches, but her notes seem hushed. Elsewhere 
in a sequestered dell a towering column rises and is 
surrounded by beflowered tombs. Creeping vines 
entwine the pedestal of the monument. To the 
south the extended vision sees the dazzling waters 
of tlie bay. To the north the eye discerns the dis- 
tant housetops of modern Babylon. 

A balmy breeze blows across the eminence and 
sets tlie leaves of a crowning cypress to whispering. 
Under shadow of this tree the visitor beholds a 
simple marble slab. He reads upon it these chiseled 
lines : 

PROFESSOR RALPH SARTORIS. 

Died December 31, 189- 
Aged 56 Years. 

HIS GOOD WORKS LIVE. 

On the reverse side of the stone, near the bottom and 
hidden by grass, is a very minute inscription, never noticed. 
It is as follows : 

CAPTAIN ERNEST MANDEVILLE 


MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON HIS SOUL. 


MRS.' MARY^ J. HOLMES’ HOVELS. 

f Over a IWIiLLIori Sold. 

As a writer of domestic stories, wlllch are extremely Interesting^ Mrs Mary 4. Holioes 
is nnrivalled. Her characters are true to life, quaint, and admirable, 

<% rr\i usi 


Tempest and Sunshine. 
English Orphans. 
Homestead on the Hillside. 
’Lena Rivers. 

Meadow Brook. 

Dora Deane. 

Cousin Maude. 

Marian Grey, 
fidithlyle. 


Daisy Thornton. 
Chateau D’Or. 

Queenie Hetherton. 
Darkness and Daylight. 
Hugh Worthington, 
Cameron Pride. 

Rose Mather. 

Ethelyn’s Mistake. 
Millbank. 

Price $1.60 per Voi. 


Edna Bi owning. 
West Lawn. 
Mildred. 

Forrest House. 
Madeline. 
Christmas StotieA 
Bessie’s Fortoufik 
Gretchen. 
Marguerite caMX 


AUGUSTA J. EVANS’ 

lYIagnificent Novels. 


Beulah, $1.75 
SU Elmo, $:^.00 


Inez, $1.75 
Macana, $1.75 
At the Mercy of Til 


i be ring, $2.00. 


NTashtl, $200 
Infelice. $2.00 


“ The author’s style is beautiful, chaste, and elegant. Her ideas are clothed In th« 
most fascinating imagery, and her power of delineating character is truly remarkable.** 


Alone, 

Hidden Path. 
Moss Side. 
Nemesis. 


SPLENDID NOVELS, 


Miriam. 

Sunny Bank, 
Ruby’s Husband. 
At Last. 


My little Love. 
Phemie’s Temptation, 
The Emp^ Heart. 
From My Youth Hp, 
Price $1.60 per VoL 


Helen Gardner. 
Husbands and Honoet 
Jessamine. 

True as Steel, 


“ Marion Harland understands the art of constructing a plot which will gain thealf* 
tentlou of the reader at the beginning, and keep up the interest to the last page." 

MAY ACNES FLEMING’S 

, POPUI.AR IVOVEI.S. 

ssll^t and True. Kate Danton. A Changed Heart. 

A Wonderful Woman, Guy Earlscourt’s Wife, Pride and Passion. 

A Terrible Secret. Heir of Charlton. Sharing Her Crime. 

Norine’s Revenge, Carried by Storm. A Wronged Wife. 

A Mad MaiTiage. Ijost for a Woman. Maude Percy’s Secret, 

One Night’s Mystery, A Wife’s Tragedy. The Actress’ Daughter. 

The Queen of the Isle. The Midnight Queen (WJw). 

Price $1.50 perVol. 

Mrs. Fleming’s stories are growing more and more popular every day. life- 

like conversations, flashes of wit, constantly varying scenes, and deeply lnte*^ting plots, 
combine to place their author in tas very flrst rank of Modem Novelists." 

'All ♦he books on this list are handsomely printed and bound 
m cloth, sold everywhere, and by mail, postage free, on re* 
ceipt of price by 

^ G. W. DILLINGHAM. PUBLISHER. 

West 83rd Street, New York, 


JULIE P. SMITH'S NOVELS. 

Goldsmlth’g Daughter. $1 60 

C!hri8 and Otho 150 

Fen Old Maids 160 

luncy 1 60 

^is Young Wife 160 


The Widower.. j-., 
The Married 


Courting and Farming ..... .... 1 

Kiss and be Friends. 1 

Blossom Bad 1 


JOHN ESTEN COOKERS NOVELS. 

iurry ot Kagie’s Nest |S 00 i Out of the Foam $1 

,^airfax . 1 66 | Hammer and Rapier 1 

BdlttoHSU 160 j Mohan 1 

CELIA E. GARDNER'S NOVELS. 

stolen Waters, (In verse) ......... $1 60 

iroken Dreams. Do 1 60 

\>ini)ensation. Do. ...o..... 1 60 

. Twisted Skein. Do 1 50 

Fested........ ......c, 1 50 


Rich Medway $1 

A Woman’s Wiles . . .. 1 

Terrace Roses . . 1 

Seraph—or Mortal! (New) 1 


A. S. ROE'S NOVELS. 


Tme to the Last $1 60 

/k Long Look Ahead 1 50 

The Star and the Cloud 160 

C’ve Been Thinking ^ , 1 50 

Flow could He Help It ... 1 60 

I.ike and Unlike t 60 


To Love and To Be Loved. ftl 

Time and Tide. 1 

Woman Our Angel 1 

Looking Around .... 1 

The Cloud on the Heart. 

Resolution 


WIAYNE 

...... SI 60 

1 60 

...... 160 


REID'S WORKS, 

The White Chief Si 


The Tiger Hunter. 

The Hunter’s Feast. . . 

Wild Life 

Osceola, the Seminole 

The Quadroon 

The white Gauntlet.. 
Lost Leonore. ....... 


CAPTAIN 

f’lie Scalp Hunters . 

f he Rifle Rangers 

The War Trail. 

The Wood Rangers ^ 1 60 

The Wild Huntress 1 60 

The Maroon 1 50 

The Headless Horseman 1 50 

)?he Rangers and Regulators ...... 1 60 

POPULAR HAND-BOOKS. 

the Habits of Good Society— The nice points of taste and good mamut^^ 
The Art of Conversation— For those who wish to be agreeable talkers . 
The Arts of Writing, Reading and Speaking— Sel^Immx)vement . , 

Carleton’s Hand-Book of Popular Quotations. , 

iOOO Legal Don’ts— By Ingersoll Lockwood ! / 

SOO Medical Don’ts— By Ferd. C. Valentine, M.D . 

On the Chafing Dish- By Harriet P. Bailey ...... ‘ 

Pole on Whist ... . 

Draw Poker without a Master 




COMIC BOOKS. ETC. 

The oni; oomplete edition. . . . 


POPULAR NOVELS, 

Les Miserubies— Translated from the French. 

S-tephen Lawrence— By Annie Bdwardea ....... 

iusan Fielding Do. Do. 

A Woman of Fashion Do. Do. ! 

Irchie Lovell Do. Do. 

^ve [L’ Amour]— English Translation fr^Mlchel'ei’efemodslBVendiwoA 
Voman [La Femme]— The Sequel to L’Amour.” Do. Da 
ferdant Green— A racy English college story. With 800 conde l£tostratloii8. 

Doctor Antonio— By Ruflini. 

Beatrice Cenci— From the Italian 


1 


) 08 h Billings. His Complete Writings— With Biography, Steel Portrait- and 100 111. $2 
Artemas Ward. Complete Comic Writings- With Biography, Portrait, and 30 111. $1 
Children's Fairy Geography- With hundreds of beautiful Illustrations 1 

All the books on this list are handsomely printed and bound 
m cloth, sold everywhere, and by mail, postage free, on tO' 
5eipt of price by 

G. W. DILLINGHAM, PUBLISHER, 

S8 WMt S3d S«»M, Kct. Tork. i 


£SSS3 SSS sssa g3g?SS2S igSSSKSSSS sssaassssssss 


14 G. W. DILLINGHAM'S PUBLICATIONS. 

I Hnmerons Works and 1 

JA Naughty Girl’s Diary 50 ) 

1 A JKsod Boys’ Diary 50 

flt^s a Way Love Has ,',5 

1 M iaora — Zarowitch 50 

Zarailla — By Beulah w 50 

The De;vil and I 50 

Florine 50 

Smart Sayings of Children — Paul i 00 

Cra2y History of the U. S 50 

Rocks and Shoals — Swisher 50 

Miscellanea 

Dawn to Noon — By Violet Fane..$i 50 
Constance’s Fate. Do. . . 1 50 ' 

The Missing Chord— ■LucyDIlling- | 

ham 1 35' 

Ronbar — By R. S. Dement i 50 ' 

A Manless World — Youroll 75 1 

Journey to Mars — Pope i 50! 

The Dissolution — Dandelyon i 00 

Lion Jack — By P. T. Barnum i 50 

Jackin the Jungle. Do 150 

Dick Broadhead. Do i 50 

Red Birds Christmas Story, Holmes i 00 
The Life of Sarah Bernhardt.... 25 
Arctic Travels — By Dr. Hayes .. . 1 50 
Flashes from “Ouida” i 25 

Miscellanea 

Doctor Antonio — ByRuffini $i 50 

Beatrice Cenci — From the Italian, i 50 

The Story of Mary i 50 

Madame — By Frank Lee Benedict, x 50 
A Late Remorse. Do. 1 50 

Hammer and Anvil Do. x 50 ! 

Her Friend Laurence. Do. i 50 

Mignonnette — BySar,gr6e 1 00 

Jessica— By Mrs. W. H.White.... x 50 

Women 01 To-day. Do i 50 

The Baroness — Joaquin Miller. ... 1 50 

One Fair Woman. Do x 50 

TheBumhams—Mrs.G.E. Stewart 2 00 
Eugene Ridgewood — Paul James 1 50 
Braxton’s Bar— R. M. Daggett... x 50 

Miss Beck — By Tilbury Holt x 50 

A Wayward Life i 00 

Winning Winds — Emerson i 50 

The Fallen Pillar Saint— Best... x 25 

An Errand Girl — Johnson 1 50 

Ask Her, Man! Ask Her! i 50 

Hidden Power — T* H. Tibbies x 50 

Parson Thorne — E.M. Buckingham i 50 

Errors — By Ruth Carter x 50 

The Abbess of Jouarre— Renan., x 00 
Bulwer’s Letters to His Wife.. 2 00 
’ Sense— A serious book. Pomeroy, x 50 
Gold Dust. Do. n 50 

Our Saturday Ni^hifs^!... Do. 150 

Nonsense— A comic book ..Do. 150 

Brick-dust. Do. ..Do. x 50 

Home Harmonies Do, x 50 

' Vesta Vane— By L. King, R 1 50 

Kimball’s Novels — 6vois. Pervol. i 00 

N’ovels in Paper Cover, 

The Wages of Sin $ 50 

The Evil that Women Do 50' 

Mrs. Spriggins — Widow Bedott. .. 35 

Phemie Frost — Ann S. Stephens. . % 50 

A Marriage Below Zero — A.Daie 50 
An Eerie He and She. Do. 50 

An Old Maid Kindled. Do. 50 

A Society S tar — Chandos Fulton . . 50 

Our Artistin Spain, etc. — Carleton x 00 
Draw Poker without a Master.. 25 
ons Works. 

The Story of a Day in London ..$ 35 
Lone Ranch — By Maync Reid.... x 50 
The Train Boy — Horatio Alger... i 25 

Dan, The Detective — Alger x 25 

Death Blow tte Spiritualism , , . . 50 

The Sale of Mrs, Adral — Costello 50 
The New Adam and Eve— Todd, 50 
Bottom Facts in Spiritualism. . . 1 50 
TheMystery ofCentralPark— Bly 50 
Debatable Land — R. Dale Owen.. 2 00 
Threading My Way. Do. .. x 50 

Princess Nourmahal — Geo. Sand i 50 
Galgano’s Wooing — Stebbins.... i 25 
Stories about Doctors — Je£B*eson 1 50 
Stories about Lawyers.— ► Do. i 50 
ous Novels. 

Warwick — M. T. Walworth f i 50 

Hotspur. Do. X 50 

Lulu. Do. X 50 

Stormcliff. Do. x 50 

Delaplaine. Do. 1 50 

Beverly. Do. 1 50 

Zahara. Do. i 50 

Led Astray — By Octave Feuillet. . 50 

The Darling of an Empire i 50 

Clip Her Wing, or Let Her Soar i 50 

Nina’s Peril~By Mrs. Mi.ler i 50 

Marguerite’s Journal — For Girls, x 50 
Orpheus C. Kerr— Foui vols. in one s 00 
Spell-Bound — Alexander Dumas. . 75 

Purple and Fine Linen — Fawcett 1 50 
Pauline’s Trial— L. D, Courtney.. 1 50 

Tancredi — Dr. E A. Wood 1 50 

Measure for Measure — Stanley., x 50 

A Marvelous Coincidence 50 

Two Men of the World— Bates.. 50 

A God of Gotham — Ba=com 50 

Congressman J ohn — MacCarthy . 50 

So Runs the World Away 50 

The Bravest 500 of ’61 3 50 

HeartHungry.Mrs.Westmordand x 50 
Clifford Troupe. Do. 50 

Price of a Life — R. F. Sturgis x 50 

Marston Hall — L. Ella Byrd x 50 

Conquered— By a New Author i 50 

Tales from the Popular Operas, x 50 

The Fall of Kilman Kon. x 50 

San Miniato — Mrs. C.V. Hamilton 50 
All for Her — A 'I'a^e of New York, x 50 
L’Assomnioir — Zola’s great novel, x 00 



MARION HARLAND’S 

I' 

SPLENDID NOVELS. 


Ifbe following i« a list of the Novels by the Aothw o; 

“ Aione,” 


dlone. 

Hidden PatiiL. 
SIoss Side. 

If emesis. 

Miriam. 

Sunny Bank. 
Buby’s Husband. 
At Last. 


My Little Love 
Phemie’s Temptation. 
The Empty Heart. 
Prom My Youth Up. 
Helen Gardner. 
Bnsbands and Homes 
Jessamine. 

True as SteeL 


These vole, can be had at any bookstore in the eloti> 
bound library edition. Price, $1,60. 

* . ... 


'^]| ie « strong proof of Marion Harland’a ability, that ehe has been able, fot 
socli X iength of llmo, to retain her hold upon the public. The secret of her snccest 
tsthat her books are truly excellent*' Times, 

“ Marion Harland understands the art of constructing a plot which will gals 
the attention the reader at the beginning, and keep up the interest unbroken te 
the last page.”-~i%iia. Tdegram. 

“ Marion Harland is very popular because she is natural and chaste. She is 
irelcorae to t'js home circle because she Is imbued with the holiest principles. She 
arranges her plots with great skill, and developes them with language commenda 
Ole for purity and earnestness of expression .*’ — Lockport Union. 

“As a writer o! fiction, Marion Harland has attained a wide and wetl-earne 
Her novels are of surpassing exceUence and ’ joumeu 




AR handsomely printed and bound In cloth, sold e^rywhere. 
and seni hy mall, postage free, on receipt of price ($1 tiO), by 


G. ¥. DILLIKGHAM, PUBLISaik 

^ 83 West S3r^ Street, Net. Ve/S 


FOFULAH NEW BOOKS. 

^*NEW TOBK WEEKLY’^ SEBIES. 

Messrs. Street & Smith, publishers of The New York Weekly, havlau 
been req.uested by their readers to issue some ot their best and most 
popular Stories in Book Form, have consented, and have now made 
arranorements for such publications with the well-known New York 
House of 

W. I^ublisliex-. 

The volumes already published are as follows : 

Thrown on the World.— A Novel, by Beetha M. Ox<at. 
Peerless Cathleen.— A Novel, by Coba Agnew. 

Faithful Margfaret.— A Novel, by Annie Ashmoee. 

Nick Whiflles.— A Novel, by J. H. Robinson. 

Lady Leonora.— A Novel, by Cabbie Conkun, 

Charity Clrinder Papers.- By Maey Kyle Dauuas. 

A Bitter Atonement.— A Novel, by Beetha M. Clay. 

A Wife’s Trag*ed 3 r— A Novel, by Mat Agnes Fleming. 

Curse of Bverleig*h.— By Helen Coewin Pieece. 

Love Works Wonders.— A Novel, by Beetha M. CLiir. 
Evelyn’s Folly.— A Novel, by Beetha M. Clay. 

A Changed Heart— A Novel, by May Agnes Fleming. 

Lady Darner’s Secret.— A Novel, by Beetha M. Clay. 

A Woman’s Temptation.— A Novel, by Beetha M. Clay. 
Brownie’s Triumph.— A Novel, by Mrs. Geobgie Sheldon. 

A Wrongred Wife— A Novel, by May Agnes Fleming. 

Pride and Passion— A Novel, by May Agnes FuanNG. 

Repented at Leisure.- A Novel, by Beetha M. Clay. 
Forsaken Bride.— A Novel, by Mrs. Geoegie Sheldon. 
Between Two Loves.— A Novel, by Beetha M. Clay. 

His Other Wife.— A Novel, by Rose Ashlbigh. 

Baric Wayne’s Nobility.— By Mrs. Geoegie Sheldon. 

A Strug-g-lc For a Ring:.— A Novel, by Beetha M. Olay 
Lost— A Poarlc.— By Mrs. Geoeoie Sheldon. 

Maude Percy's Secret— A Novel, by May Agnes Fleming. 

The Actress’ Daugrhter (New)— A Novel, by May Agnes Fi®43wo, 
'SToungr Mrf, Chamleigrh,— A Novel, by T. W. Hanbhew. 

Earl’s Atonement.— A Novel, by Beetha M. Olay. 

Put Asunder.— A Noveh by Beetha M. Olay. 

A Woman’s Web.— By Rose Ashleigh. 

Beyond Pardon— A Nov^, by Beetha M. Olay. 

Stella Rosovelt.— A Novel, by Mrs. Geobgie Sheldon. 

J8^ Sold by Booksellers everywhere— and sent by ma41,posfeoc.^w. 
on receipt of price, $1.50 each, by 

Ch W. DU-LINGHAM. Publisher. 

^COfiSSOR TO G. W. CAKLETON & CO.) 

33 West Twenty-third St., New Torlfr 






G. W. DILLINGHAM'S PUBLICATIONS 


CaptRin Mayn© Reid’s orba* 

* a.* . fr>u -V Txru;4.«». r*v.;*af 


The Scalp Hunters $i 50 

Thci Rifle Rangers i 50 

The War Trail i 50 

The Wood Rangers i 50 

The Wild Huntress 1 5° 

The Maroon 1 5^ 

The Headless Horseman 1 50 

The Rangers and Regulators... 1 50 


The White Chief. $i 5® 

The Tiger Hunter x 50 

The Hunter’s Feast x 50 

Wild Life 150 

Osceola, the Seminole i 50 

The Quadroon x 50 

The White Gauntlet x 50 

Lost Leonore x 5° 


Popular Hand-Books. 

The Habits of Good Society — The nice points ot taste and good manners.. .$i 00 

The Art of Conversation — For those who wish to be agreeable talkers i 00 

The Arts of Writing, Reading and Speaking— For Self-Improvement i 00 

Carleton’s Hand-Book ofPopular Quotations i 5© 

Blunders in Educated Circles Corrected — Bowden 75 

1000 Legal Don’ts— By Ingersoll Lockwood • • 75 

600 Medical Don’ts— By Ferd. C. Valentine, M.D 75 

Josk Billings. . , * 

His Complete Writings — With Biography, Steel Portrait and 100 Illustrations $2 00 

Annie Edwardes’ Novels. 

Stephen Lawrence $1 50 1 A Woman of Fashion $i 50 

Susan Fielding 1 50 1 Archie Lovell ^ fio 

Albert Ross’ Novels. (Paper Covers.) 


Thou Shalt Not $0 50 

Speaking of B-llen 50 

Her Husband’s Friend 50 

The Garston Bigamy 50 

Thy Neighbor’s Wife 50 

Young Miss Giddy 5° 

Out of Wedlock. (New.) 50 

Artemas TVard. 

Complete Comic Writings— With Biography, Portrait and 50 Illustrations. $i 50 

John Esten Cook’s Novels, 


His Private Character $0 50 

In Stella’s Shadow 50 

Moulding a Maiden , 50 

Why I’m Single 50 

An Original Sinner 5° 

Love at Seventy 5° 


Hammer and Rapier $i 50 

Mohun I 50 

Captain Ralph i 50 

Col. Ross of Piedmont i i;© 

Robert E. Lee i 5© 

Stonewall Jackson.,,,,.. i 5<^ 


Surry of Eagle’s Nest $i 50 

Fairfax x 50 

Hilt to Hilt 1 50 

Beatrice Hallam x 50 

Leather and Silk i 50 

Miss Bonnybcl x 50 

Out of the Foam x 50 

Miscellaneous liVorks, 

On the Chafing Dish— By Harriet P. Bailey $©50 

New Things To Eat and How To Make Them 50 

Philosophers and Actresses — By Houssaye. Steel Portraits, 2 vols 4 ©o 

Men and Women of i8th Century— By Houssaye. S eel Portraits, 2 vols. 

Fifty Years among Authors, Books and Publishers— By J.C. Derby. 8 vo. 

Children’s Fairy Geography — With hundreds of beautiful illustrations i ©o 

An Exile’s Romance— By Arthur Louis x 5° 

Laus Veneris, and other Poems — By Algernon Charles Swinburne i 

Hawk-eye Sketches — Comic book by “Burlington Hawk-eye Man.” Do. i 
The Culprit Fay — Joseph Rodman D ake’s Poem. With 100 illustrationr.. . . . 2 o© 
Love [L’ Amour] — English Translation from Michelet’s famous French work, i 50 
Woman [La Femme] — The Sequel to “L’Amour.” Do. Do. 

Verdant Green — A racy English college story. With 200 comic illustrations. . 

For the Sins of his Youth — By Mrs. Jane Kavanagh 

Mai Moul^e — A splendid novel, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox 

Birds of a Feather Flock Together — By. Edward A. Sothern, the actor 

O’er Rail and Cross-ties with Gripsack — By Geo. L. Marshall.. i 50 

Legends of the Centures — By Victor JJugo x So 


MAY mil FLEMINGS 


Populat* Novels. 

The following is a list of the Novels by the Author of 
^^Guy Earlscourt's AVife'’": 


SILENT AND TRUE. 

A WONDERFUL WOMAN. 

A TERRIBLE SECRET. 
NORINE’S REVENGE. 

A MAD MARRIAGE. 

ONE NIGHT’S MYSTERY. 
KATE DANTON. 

GUY EARLSCOURT’S WIFE. 
HEIR OF CHARLTON. 

THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. 

These volumes can be 
cloth-bound library edition. 


CARRIED BY STORM. 

LOST FOR A WOMAN. 

A WIFE’S TRAGEDY. 

A CHANGED HEART. 
PRIDE AND PASSION. 
SHARING HER CRIME. 

A WRONGED WIFE. 
MAUDE PERCY’S SECRET. 
THE ACTRESS’ DAUGHTER. 
EDITH PERCIVAL (New). 

had at any bookstore in the 
Price $1.50. 


Mrs. Fleming’s stories are growing more and more popular every day. Their 
delineations of character, lifelike conversations, flashes of wit, constantly 
varying scenes, and deeply interesting plots combine to place 
their author in the very first rank of modern novelists.” 


Al/ handsomely printed and bound in cloth, sold everywhere, and 
sent by 7 nail, postage free, on receipt of price ($1.50), by 


(j. W. DILLINGHAM, Publisher, 

33 West 23rd Street, New York. 


AUeUSTA J. EVANS' 

UGHim NOIEIS. 


BEULAH, $1-75 

ST. ELMO, 2.00 

INEZ, 1.75 

MACARIA, 1.76 

VASHTI, 2.00 

INFELIOE, • - - 2.00 

AT THE MERCY OP TIBERIUS, 2.00 


A Prominent Critic says of these Novels : 

** The author’s style is beautiful, chaste, and elegant. 
Her ideals are clothed in the most fascinating imagery, and 
her power of delineating character is truly remarkable. One 
of the marked and striking characteristics of each and all 
her works is the purity of sentiment which pervades every 
line, every page, and every chapter.” 


A// handsomely printed and bound in cloth^ sold everywhere.^ 
and sent by mail, postage free, on receipt of price, by 

MS G. W. DILLINGHAM, Publisher. 

West 23rd Street, New York. 


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